Just a disclaimer, I have ADHD, and I do follow CPT/cognitive personality theory.

• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?

— My parents (specifically my mom), is religious, but they’re never forced any of us (me and our siblings) to believe in the religion. Just participating in the festivals and certain rituals was/still is expected, though.

• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?

—If I were to spend the entire weekend by myself, I’d honestly feel kinda lethargic and dead inside—not because of lack of socialization, but because the vibes of the house is off when there’s no one. I can tell someone’s out of the house just by the pure vibes I’m getting. It feels weird even with one person gone (we’re a family of five; me, my younger brother and sister, and mom & dad).

• What is your relation with movement and your surroundings? For instance do you prefer a sport or outdoors event? If an outdoors event what is it? And why? If not what type of activities do you tend to engage in?

—My relationship with movement and surroundings, is that I think I have great spatial awareness. I’m able to carry and do things in certain ways in order to avoid any pointless harm (such as avoiding to accidentally hitting the door on my leg as it closes). The type of activities I do tend to engage in outside is mainly just focusing on what I’m thinking about when walking outside, or just waiting to go back home.

• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?

—I’d say I’m pretty curious—I’ve always wondered why something makes me feel a certain way, for example, in lit & comp we recently learned about film composition, and after learning some of the stuff, I was able to spot it in the shows and videos I watched. After said lesson, I was always wondering about whether or not if the creators I watched (especially on YouTube) actually used said film composition, but it’s definitely interesting to look for.

• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?

—I wouldn’t necessarily enjoy taking a leadership position, but I’m willing to do so, especially if a project in class is summative/part of our grade. I’d be the leader if no one else had already taken up the position. It does make me feel quite nervous when I am in said position, though.

• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?

—I’d consider myself pretty coordinated. I know exactly how much milk to pour in a certain glass, and I know exactly where on the fingerboard of my violin each note is. I can also catch myself when I’m about to fall pretty well.

• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?

—The past in my opinion, is something that can give you knowledge for the future. Basically, it gives you the info for what not to do in the future, and how to avoid X circumstance, the best way forward, etc.
—The future on the other hand, I believe is kinda something you could plan for, or have a very vague idea of, but you can’t necessarily do anything about in the present. It’ll come when it comes.
—And for the present, I believe that it’s the most “calm before the storm” scenario. Its characteristics can only be defined by the current situation that’s happening; there’s nothing you could do to mitigate it, other than continuously plan for its eventual outcome.

• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?

—If they’re asking for something like asking for a charger or something (such as in school), I’ll generally decline unless they’re my friend, because it just takes so much unnecessary effort to pack up your charger. If it’s something I’m interested in helping with though, I’d gladly throw up word vomit at them, and then usually regret it later on. Basically, I’ll help someone if it’s no effort involved in my side and/or if I have a deep interest in the subject they need help on.

• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?

—Productivity isn’t as important to me as much as efficiency is, but productivity does tend to make me feel good. I often find myself wondering if my attention to the efficiency is actually a result of my obvious laziness. Like, I would literally pack my tiffin box in a certain way in my lunch bag so that when I take it out of my back pack, it isn’t all leaning to one side. I’ll also always wear my jacket everywhere because they have pockets, and I’m always like, “what if it rains by chance?” And I’ve actually been saved by my jacket multiple times that way.

• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?

—I’d say I’m decent at strategizing. I could use it effectively, but I just end up not putting the plan into use, because I either don’t have the motivation, or the deadline has been so long past that it isn’t worth it anymore.

• What's important to you and why?

—Freedom of thought, and expression. Also the freedom of being able to silently judge others. Mostly because I just want to be able to have/own my thoughts and opinions, if that makes sense?

• What do the "highs" in your life look like?

—The “highs” in my life may look like when I’m able to turn in assignments on time, not feel complete demotivation, and able to live up to others expectation.

• What do the "lows" in your life look like?

—The opposite of my highs. I suppose I’m in one of my “lows” right now.

• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?

—I pay attention to the world around me, but I feel like I’m never really in the present. It’s like there’s always something going on in my mind regardless of what’s happening in the foreground.

• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?

—I’d probably end up sleeping tbh. But I’d also probably start over-analyzing my understanding of a concept or subject. For example, CPT/cognitive personality theory, or MBTI. Basically, I’d be trying to find multiple ways of understanding a subject so that I could fully understand it.

• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?

—I usually don’t take much time to make an important decision usually because the thing is important. And no, I don’t generally tend to change my mind once I’ve done so.

• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?

—Yes, usually in order to avoid being out on the spot for anything. If they end up asking me their opinion, I usually try to say it in a polite manner, usually starting with, “I think X because Y,” etc. etc.

• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why would you?

—I’d say I break rules pretty often, but they’re mainly arbitrary house-hold rules (the usuals, no phone after 10pm, no phone in the bathroom, no staying up late, etc.). I break them because in personally don’t find them logical.
—I do think authority shouldn’t be challenged as much as specific rules should be challenged. Mainly because yeah, they generally know better.

• What is the ideal life, in your opinion?

—I honestly have no idea at this point.

His ex sent me this message. Sorry it’s so long! Has anybody else gotten a similar message in the past? How did you react?
Message below: “It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”
TLDR: my SO’s ex messaged me saying he’s been seeing both of us for the past year and a half. Has anybody experienced this before. She sent me pictures from the past year of them and their text exchanges

As the world faded away into nothing but a dark void, Tom felt the only mildly familiar sensation of magic flowing like a gentle stream. It wasn’t much of a draw, but it was certainly noticeable.
“Right, best make this quick then,” he tried thinking to himself, feeling the flow peak as he did.
“Who is this? Make what quick?” an ethereal sounding female voice replied. It did sound a bit like how he remembered Joelina sounding. Though she did not exactly sound calm.
“Uhm… Hello? Anyone there?”
“Yes hello. Who is this? What must be done quick? Answer me at once!”
“It’s Tom… Is that you, Joelina?”
“Yes of course it is! Stupid dragons taking ages, I have questions for you! So many questiiioooonssss...”
“Yeah I figured that… Fire away I suppose.” Tom replied a little uncertainly as to just what he might be in for.
“Firstly! Did you read the letters?”
“I did yeah…”
“Disregard them, I have learned much since they were written! So much more yes, cursed blessed knowledge…”
“So you do know we have gone to space then?”
“What? No, I re-experienced the memory you had of the movie about the moon mission. It was evident on the second watching that it was trickery of the eye! Spaceflight is but a myth!”
“Riiight.”
“Then how have your kind visited space? And what of the gods above!? it was evident that the woman with the crystals was but a fraud!” Joelina explained with all the calm and restraint of a shoppingmall Karen
“Well the rockets to the moon, that did happen.” Tom attempted, doing his best to remain calm and diplomatic. “The movie you saw was probably a recreation… Tell me, did things go wrong on that trip but they made it home anyway?”
“Yes, do you know of what I speak? Ahr what am I proclaiming! of course you do it is your own memories, how could I forget.”
“Yea…, you watched a movie about Apollo 13 I think. Good movie, and that all happened too. Like for real happened”
“I see…” Joelina replied, sounding rather unstable. “And what of the gods?”
“We ain’t got any. Well not in space at least.”
“Impossible!”
“No, quite possible. Many still believe in gods though, but let’s not get into that too much. It’s a right old mess.”
“No, you must tell me what happened to the gods? Have they left you?”
“Well some think so, but no. I just think it all works a bit different for us. They might be a little more hands off.”
“But the churches… and these religious warriors you did battle with,” the inquisitor all but muttered to herself, sounding like she was struggling to put pieces together. “Do Jesus and Islam fight for power then? no no, they would have long since lost the battles to the ancient gods of war the teachers spoke of… though why they were always naked eludes me yeeees…”
“No, again we don’t really have gods just floating around... Could we please talk about something else? Or is that all you wanted to know?” Tom tried, hoping he really didn’t have to dive deeper into that particular subject.
“No no don’t you dare cut me off! I have seen what you talked of, nuclear fire and missiles, ships of the oceans and planes soaring in the skies. But is it not all fake? Surely it must be! It must be? It must be…”
“I don’t know what you saw… but we have ships sailing around. If you’ve ever seen flying ships like you have here then that’s fake I can assure you of that. We do have airships, but they look more like really big long balloons.”
“But we could make such vessels, or someone could from times past. If you can visit the moon then surely you can make a ship for the skies!”
“No no, we ain’t got grav oil. Or dragon essence as I guess it’s called. That means no anti gravity, and that means weight is a very very big problem for anything you wanna make fly. Planes and helicopters are how we fly. Remember how I flew to Afghanistan on a big ass plane? Or when I learned to parachute later?”
“What is parachute? is it the ham from your times doing, vacationing? what has dried meat products got to do with flying machines of battle!”
“Wooo easy now easy. I guess you didn’t get that far yet. Uhm. It’s a cloth kite you dangle from and then glide to the ground. Very good fun.”
“A cloth kite used to fly?... such strange inventions. Wait was there not a movie of with something of that nature? yeeee… there was a song. I liked that song… something something brains upon his chute. Yeesss…”
“Yeah… You’ll know it when you see it. I have one actually.” Tom clarified trying not to get too weirded out.
“You must demonstrate on a suitable occasion.”
“Yeah… I do have a question too though,” Tom replied, letting silence reign for a short time. “...Your last letter was in Danish.”
“Oh, uhm yes. I- I was having some difficulty separating what was real and what was not… I still am. Do not tell Glazz, she musten know the truth yet. She seeks to limit my excursions.”
“You’ve ended up like I did, have you?”
“No no no, the effects do indeed recede as expected, everything is in good order… But I had to know more. So so much moooore.”
“Maybe you should cool it a bit. You never know when a brain snaps. Or how,” Tom tried, confident his advice would be ignored.
“There is not time!”
“And why is that? How is it going in our beloved Inquisition?”
“Mind your tongue, human! Things are progressing, but so are our enemies. Infiltrators have been caught, traitors within our ranks are making their moves. The reemergence of Rashan, attacks on mines, keeps and a daring heist attempt at a Royal Guard fortress! The game is afoot, we cannot delay.”
“You can’t overreach yourself either. Weren’t you supposed to be winning over the rest of the inquisition right about now? Can’t do that as a gibbering mess.”
There was silence for a while more after that. “Glazz sent you a letter? What did it say?! You may not keep secrets from me- wait not… I should confiscate her arm… she cannot write with her left. Yes far better plan, avoid upsetting him. And fill her pen with invisible ink. Yes very good.”
“No, it’s just obvious to any idiot. But what about winter, won’t things slow down?”
“They should, yet as autumn progresses it has only been picking up. I hope they too are running out of time… But time for what? I must know what they are planning. They might be behind schedule. But what SCHEDULE! sorry…”
“Well you’re not gonna find the answer to that in my memories, now are you?”
“You were sent by someone. You are here for a purpose. I must know this purpose. It will help me understand. The puzzle is large and much of the box kept from me.”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to help you guys get in gear. That’s a decades to centuries long sorta problem, not a couple of years. Sounds like this war will be in the couple of years category.”
“Then why now? Why did you arrive now?!”
“Shitty luck? Sounds like 10 years ago would have been a lot better… Oh on that note, did you hear? We found something down below.”
“No, Paulin would have told me.”Joelina dismissed, he could almost feel her turning her snout up and away from him.
“Well we opened the vault like 3 days ago,” Tom replied, quite surprised Paulin hadn’t said anything. “Wait yeah she can send you messages, no? She sent the message about what we wanted to buy too, didn’t she?... How did she do that by the way? Why didn’t you just have her ask me questions?”
“That is not for you to know, and this is not for her.”
“Really? More secrets still? Come on, tell me or I’ll let you think flying whales exist.”
“I know those are not real. If they were, you would have harvested them long ago! likely for some deranged snack… or facial decoration.”
“True, but you get the idea,” Tom persisted, feeling like this was something worth pushing for. Why would Paulin not have let her precious Joelina know?
“Very well. This does not leave your mind… In the name of, what was it called… camaraderie. Paulin is in possession of joined paper. Messages may be written down and read by anyone with similarly joined paper. Unsecured. Originally believed to be fore love letters… dastardly studs and wenches using perfectly good magic for such trivialness… simply tie the message to a rock and throw it though the window. Most peasants cannot even afford glass” Joelina trailed off, seemingly zoning out once more.
“You have magical paper that can relay written information… and you don’t fucking use it!?” Tom explaimed, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“No, we do not know how to make freshly bonded paper… only more linked to all other paper in existence…” Joelina agreed. He could almost feel her looking at the floor in shame. “But it is not as if you are infallible, why did you not bring one of these radios?”
“I uhm…”
“Why didn’t you?!”
“I forgot,” Tom admitted, thinking back to his packing days. Of all the things that could have proven useful, that one might have been his biggest blunder.
“For the love of all that is holy! You are our saviour?!” Joelina scolded, understandably so, but still.
“Hey I never claimed to be smart!”
“I have lived your dreams. That is a lie! You very much claim to be smart!”
“Fuck off, I know you are just a scared little insecure girl.”
“She died 30 years ago!”
“Well I haven’t gotten to that bit yet!”
“What in the devils do you mean?” Joelina questioned calming right down in a fraction of a second.
“I’ve only had like three proper dreams about you… wait no, not like that,” Tom blurted out as it clicked just how wrong that sounded. Joelina didn’t seem to care in the slightest though.
“Three? That is it!?” going right back to outrage.
“Yeah… Wait, how many have you had?” Tom questioned. He rather wanted to know just how much she might know about him in addition to the memories she had already picked through when inside his head.
“Several a day!” the inquisitor exclaimed in reply.
“Okay, I can see how that would drive someone a bit mad.”
“I am not going mad!”
“Did Glazz say the same thing?” Tom questioned, quite certain he was striking a nerve.
There was no reply for quite some time, Tom feeling the headache growing as things grew tranquil once more. He could feel his breath. It was rapid, and his heart was pounding. He probably shouldn’t do this for much longer. Thus he endeavored to break the silence.
“You probably should listen to her you know.”
“No! These matters are above her station!”
“Hasn’t she been in the Inquisition longer than you?”
“She has yes. But she is no inquisitor. She is a body guard.”
“Seems like she is a wee bit more than that,” Tom pushed on. He didn’t yet know how those two came to stick together, but it was clear they had been working together for decades by now. All the way since she was assigned to Harvik
“Mind your own matters, human.”
“Very well, don’t think I can keep this up anyway.”
“We have barely been chatting! Where do the dogs come from?!”
“Selective breeding for thousands of years. But I’m gonna go. Take a break, do what Glazz says… even if Jacky hates her.”
Yet more silence followed that, though it was brief and Joelina was the first to speak again.
“Fine! In the interest of cooperation I shall let you rest. Wear the earring at all times, I shall be contacting you again soon.”
“I think I’m gonna be the judge of that. I’ll put it on when I feel like it.”
“You will do as I say!”
“You need a nap and a bit to calm down. I’ll give you three days. Around noon. See yah… How do I get this thing off?”
“I’m not telling you,” Joelina grumped like a little girl. She really didn’t seem quite like herself at all today. She had been the spitting image of restraint and arrogance before. The arrogance was still there, but the restraint had certainly gone.
“Come on, do I just try to cut off the magic or is that a bad idea?”
“If you answer a question I might answer.”
“Right then… Gimme gimme gimme aaaa-”
“JUST CUT IT! Farewell!” she called out loud enough Tom’s head pulsed and then there was blissful silence once more.
“Hehe. That did the trick, right concentrate on that funny feeling aaan-”
__________________________________________________________________________________
After dinner had been rounded up, Dakota had given a brief address as to some of the news received. There wasn’t much that hadn’t already made the rounds at the tables during the dinner itself. The war had been expanding, recruitment had started in full in the cities, and if not for the rather special situation at Bizmati they could have expected their banners to get called by spring.
Rumors had it that the kingdom was preparing itself for counterstrikes the following spring, which meant training through the winter for many volunteers.
“And a lot of not so volunteers,” Fengi muttered as Dakota carried on with the address.
“You can say that twice. At least the street rats might get something to eat and a place to sleep,” Tirox the trader escort added.
“I suppose that is true. Not a bad deal in winter time… I might even have taken it.”
“But we must instead keep our minds on our home,” Dakota carried on, talking to the whole hall. “There can be no mistake, we will be a target. We will be ready. They are getting bolder by the day it seems. It is not impossible they may attempt to take our keep before the winter comes. Or perhaps they will be waiting for spring. It is equally clear their forces are spread thin. We will weather such assaults, I have no doubt. But we must keep training. We must keep vigil. We cannot afford to be surprised or outmatched. I know you will all do your best. And tonight, we have no less than 4 dragons here. So breathe easy, have your snacks and your drinks. If the weather holds soon we will be finished with the warehouse and then we may make final preparations for winter. It is sure to be an interesting one for once.”
The hall replied with a half-discordant cheer, not overly enthusiastic unlike what Dakota had likely envisioned. The talk of them possibly getting attacked even before the snow came wasn’t really that encouraging. But Dakota tended to speak her mind, and she was probably right. Bizmati keep would be a damn tough nut to crack. And to Dakota’s credit she did seem to recognize she hadn’t really managed to rile them up.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she tried again in a slightly more humorous tone. “Eat, drink, and have fun! And put those tables together, don’t want you brooding in your corners.”
That did get a bit more of a reaction, as well as some good humored chuckles. People started getting up and set about moving the tables closer together.
It was a little rude to split up their guests in the same way as they normally did. Saph carried one of the benches over to the new spot, glancing around for any sign of Maiko, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
Feeling a little miffed, she sat down with the others as Ray came back with one of the small kegs of cider looking very excited. “We should have a taste, right?”
“Oh yes please!” Pho called out, Essy giving her a slight slap on the wrist.
“This one is only for those who paid for it. You will have to do with whatever you bought. Or the ale I’m sure they intend to serve.”
“Aww man. Not even a sip?”
“Okay, maybe a sip,” Essy relented. “Oh, I should get Koko his gift.”
“You got him a gift?” Saph questioned with mirth in her voice.
“Of course, that is what people do for each other… you did get Maiko something, right?”
Saph felt her expression slip a little as she prepared to disappoint their chief people person. “No, not really…”
“All that money and you didn’t get him shit? That’s cold girl,” Pho laughed, clearly finding it hilarious.
“Oh shut up, not as if I got something for Unkai either,” Fengi added, springing to Sapphire’s defence, though it seemed like the delivery had Fengi second guessing herself as well.
Esmeralda did look a little saddened by the news, but she was far too nice to say anything. Tirox however had no such filter.
“Oh don’t worry about it, just gotta go with a different sort of gift.” The diminutive guard laughed heartily at his joke. Udanti found it quite funny as well, and Pho certainly loved it. Bo just shook her head a little and went back to a small puzzle of some sort she had been working on, on and off, for most of the dinner by now.
“So uhm… One mug each?” Ray questioned, having been left hanging at the keg.
“Oh yes sorry, just the one, this stuff is expensive,” Saph replied, holding out her mug, Ray pushing it back down.
“One moment.” And she produced a wooden mallet and one of the metal taps. It looked like one of Raulf’s, so it was probably old as faded dragonscales.
Ray gingerly placed it against the cork and raised the mallet as the table fell silent in anticipation.
With a whack the tap went in clean with hardly a drop spilled, and Ray breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Right there we go.”
There was a quick round of cheers from the table, and Ray started pouring servings.
“Oh got yours open, have you?” the voice of Balethon came as the guard came walking up to the table, mug in hand and lizard on shoulder. “You all know we are gonna have to work out who got the better stuff, right?”
“Oh does it always have to be a competition with you, Balethon?” Saph questioned. She had just wanted to enjoy the cider.
“Look who is talking… And yeah of course we do! Just think of the bragging rights.”
Ray didn’t look too thrilled, nor did any of the girls who had actually paid for the keg. The rest of the table seemed to think it was a brilliant idea, even as Balethon’s voice carried and heads started to turn as people started to mingle between the now closely together tables.
“I’ll be the independent adjudicator!” Tirox declared, not receiving much attention as the full mugs started to get passed around. “Oh come on. I’ll be fair!”
“Shut it pipsqueak, you’ll end up taking 10 rounds of tastings before you make up your mind,” Udanti scolded, though in good humor.
“I might…” the guy relented, looking to Balethon. “Ey, by the way. Did you teach the brainlet any tricks?”
“Sure, Skitters can do a few things.”
“Aside from chasing the food?”
“You know what I think he might yeah,” Balethon replied sarcastically, gently tapping the static lizard twice on the head. The lizard didn’t do much save skitter about on his shoulder to face Balethon’s head, one eye pointing in whichever direction.
‘That thing just looks so dumb,’ Saph thought to herself as Ray handed her a mug. “Oh thank you.”
“Okay, Skitters. Up,” Balethon went, raising a claw into the air as if he wanted the lizard to jump. Or perhaps stand up. “Up… come on.”
There was no reaction from the lizard aside from it jerking to the left a bit, possibly having spotted a fly or something.
“Weeeell obedience might need some work,” Udanti chuckled. “Have you tried with some food in your hand?”
“Sure, then he just tries to eat the hand. Come on, Skitters. Up!” Balethon tried again, doing the gesture once more. And this time the little lizard jumped into the air. The little legs stretched out, taking its pitiful excuse for wings with it, and it half-fell half-glided to the floor where it hit with all the grace of a 6 year old on his first lesson. The slightly fat lizard bounced once, then rolled over twice before coming to a stop, looking around confused.
“Aaayyy! That’s a good boi,” Balethon went, going to pick it up again before someone stepped on it or it ran off under the tables. “And now you get a treat.” True to his word Skitters was fed a small piece of something or other which it seemed quite happy to snap up.
Fengi leaned in to whisper to Saph. “Was that the trick or did it just get sick of staying there?”
“I have no idea,” Saph replied, holding up her mug. “Cheers though.”
“Cheers,” Fengi replied as they clinked mugs.
“Oh hang on now, wait for me,” Essy protested as Ray finished pouring her mug and started on her own, looking to the girls as she questioned “Oh, also what about Jacky? Should we wait for her?”
“Who knows how long that will take?” Fengi replied, holding her mug impatiently.
“I’m sure she won’t mind. She is with Tom. We’ll let him have a mug as well,” Essy added with a reassuring nod, looking up to the high table. “Oh but we are missing Lin!”
“Oh right yeah she paid too… I can’t remember, did Edita chip in?”
“I don’t think so,” Sapphire replied, shaking her head as Essy got up to go fetch Linkosta. Balethon decided to take her place, a big grin on his face.
“So what else is going on over here?”
“Oh not much, hellooo little guy,” Pho went, trying to give skitters a scritching. In exchange he tried to eat her finger. “Oh… I mean I guess it doesn’t hurt.”
“Oh yeah, he can’t hurt a fly… well he can, but nothing more.”
“Shame he won’t get any bigger either,” Udanti added, nodding sagely. “Would have made a good rat hunter.”
“Nah… toe hunter though. Also where is the ale at?”
“Oh Raulf and Wiperna are getting ale and some of the bubble beer.”
“What is bubble beer?” Udanti questioned, tilting her head.
“Oh you’ll love it,” Saph interjected, waiting patiently as she saw Essy and Linkosta returning to the table out of the corner of her eye. “It’s an ale but it’s all fizzy.”
“Riiight… I’ve heard of fizzy beers before.”
“Oh yes, but this one is so much more fizzy.”
“It’s light and almost springlike.”
“Light ale? You mean for kids?”
“No no no. Just trust us it’s good.”
“Right right, I trust you,” the archer replied, looking to Essy and Linkosta, who seemed to be looking for a place to sit. “Should we not just put two end to end rather than this scrunching up business?”
“Yeah we should… Right get the craftsman table over here then. We don’t wanna have to smell the guards,” Saph called out, holding up her mug.
“Hey! That was uncalled for,” Balethon protested as Ray passed a mug to Linkosta. The girls all raised their mugs and had a sip, not willing to wait any longer. They all smacked their chops a little, looking down at the golden liquid. It was slightly fizzy too… and it tasted like the brew of the gods themselves. Ray was looking at them all visibly tense with anticipation and perhaps a twinge of fear.
“Ray… You have not disappointed,” Saph declared, nodding her approval, a smile creeping onto her face once more.
“Oh this is the best drink I think I’ve ever had,” Fengi added, taking another gentle sip.
Ray looked visibly relieved, her expression changing to one of ecstasy as she too took a sip herself. “Oh it’s even better than I remember. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Like it?! I love it!” Fengi cheers, Essy giving an appreciative nod to Ray before looking to Lin.
“Sooo?”
“It’s very good… Do you think we could try and cool it down a little? Imagine this cold.”
“It is often served cold, yes,” Ray confirmed, nodding her assent.
“I’ll go get the powder!” Saph called out, getting up. “I have got to try that.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
The strange ethereal world that had seemed so all-consuming started to quickly fade. Holes grew as light and reality started seeping in, sounds and noise starting to build around him. “Oom-Tom… Tom, are you okay?” came the familiar voice of Jacky as his eyes shot open and he blinked a few times as he returned to reality proper.
“Yeah yeah, I’m here… That is trippy, but hey, I think it worked.”
“How many fingers?” Jacky questioned, holding up her hand.
“4. Clear as day.”
“Pheeew. Okay look around, anything strange?”
Tom obeyed, sitting up a bit straighter and glancing about the room. “Nnnnn, nope all good. Just like last time I used one of these.”
“Right, good. Now what did she say?”
“Oh a bunch of stuff… mostly we chatted a bit about how she’s going a touch mad. Even Glazz thinks she’s falling apart at the seams apparently. She was also not happy I wanted a break.”
“Oh don’t tell me you have to do this every day from now on?”
“I said she had 3 days to get ready to try again. Hopefully she’ll have her case worked out by then.”
“Here’s to hoping… also how is your head? Does it hurt?”
“A bit, it’ll go away I’m sure.”
“Right,” Jacky replied, looking at him skeptically. “If it gets worse, tell me. But dinner was served a while ago I think. And I’m hungry.”
“Me too, let’s go.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
Well then, Joelina got her chat. She seems fine... I am sure she will continue to be a steadfast ally, within the walls of the inquisition for many weeks to co- I mean years, definetly years.
As always I hope you enjoyed the chapter, if not you know who to blame. I promise I won't cry to much if you tell me what was wrong... I promise.
Not really any news, other than fuck me I'm a busy boi, luckily I found the time to keep up with the writing yet, hopefully things will quet down soon so I can get back to begin a bit further ahead.
Untill next time, take care
Wiki and Art Gallery If you can't remember who someone is, want to read any of the side stories of fanfiction, or you just wanna watch some of the cool art that's been made for the story. Patreon If you want to help get more cool shit made consider joining the Patreon, you also get chapters two weeks ahead of time. HoH Subreddit if you want more stories from the HoH universe or are interested in writing something for this funny little world. Discord if you wanna have a chat about the story or just hang out First Previous

Most of you are probably already aware of this theory. It has been around for years. The great twist of Yandere Simulator will be the reveal that Megami and Ayano are sisters.
This had been a widly accepted theory since the release of Megami's first design, back when she still had black hair. Her design at the time was extremely similar to Kill la Kill character, Satsuki Kiryun. For those who are unaware, Satsuki is the main antagonist of the anime, and the president of the student council the protagonist attends. The plot twist of the anime is that she is the protagonist's sister.
Considering Alex knows about Kill la Kill, as proven by several easter eggs, it's likely he decided to use the same plot twist for Yandere Simulator. Megami's design was changed to not give it away immediatly, but of course, Alex couldn't keep his damn mouth shut, so there are many, MANY details that confirm this theory. I said details ? I should have said pages.
However, I feel like a lot of people are glossing over many details about this theory, and have many misconceptions about it. Notably, about how Megami and Ayano are related. So I decided to give my own theory, including all the... uh... subtle evidences we get in the game.
Crazy Grandpa master plan
No need to beat around the Saikou family's bush (or should I say tree, wink wink), you probably know about the Saikou Grandpa eugenics tendencies. His goal is to create the perfect human being, and he plans on using that by acheving the perfect combination of genetics.
So you might not know about this, but there are two major theories about the development of an individual. It's nature against nurture. Is an individual as he is because he was born this way, or because he grew to be this way. Is a person a blank slate at birth, or is their individuality already present from birth. This plays into determinism, I won't go into more details for a Yandere Simulator dumb theory, but you can look it up if you're interested.
So, to go back to Crazy Grandpa, he was probably on the side of nature at first. He only reproduced after he found the perfect wife, as he didn't want his gene pool to be "tainted", going as far as to DNA her on random shit. How did he DNA test her in the 60s is anyone's guess but let's move on.
The result were two children, Ichiko and Ichirou. Ichiko was raised rather normally, and ended up leaving the Saikou family as she didn't want to become the CEO. Crazy Grandpa saw it as the failure of his belief in nature, and decided to switch to nurture with Ichiro.
So Ichirou was raised with high expectations, to the point he acted like a robot, but Crazy Grandpa was very proud about what he had become.

Saishou carefully designed a very specific upbringing for Ichirou in order to encourage the development of specific personality traits and interests, and discourage the development of any attribute that he considered to be 'unnecessary'.

The boy spoke formally at all times, never expressed emotion, and rarely changed his facial expression. The Saikou family's attendants often wondered if the boy was still capable of independent thought, or if he was simply an empty shell that had been trained to carry out his father's will." Beside that, nothing else is known about his personality.
Familiar, isn't it ? We also learn that this is Saisho's conception of an "ideal person".
It is mentionned Grandpa was the one to chose Ichirou's wife, with the same criteria as he chose his own wife. Again, a perfect wife, because he didn't want his son to waste all the work he had put to this point to have a perfect bloodline. To this point, grandpa got the living proof that nurture works, but he still can't let go of his belief nature plays a part in it.
If only there was a way to run an experiment that could give an answer to this question...
The theory
The sisters theory is that Megami and Ayano are sisters, but there are usually divergences on how they are related. Keep in mind that I will be using the old timeline from 1980s mode as a template. It's already inaccurate as Yandere Simulator isn't set in 2022 anymore, but in 2026. But I don't care, the events probably play the same way.
Megami and Ayano are revealed in this timeline to have been born in the same year. You'll notice that the timeline mentions the birth of "Ryoba's daughter", and the birth of "Ichirou's daughter". Keep in mind that Jokichi isn't mentioned as Ayano's father.
And that's where we come to the main misconception in this theory.
Who are Megami's parents ?
Ichirou is obviously Megami's father. However, many have theorized that Ryoba is Megami's biological mother. This theory goes both way, either Megami and Ayano are twins separated from birth, or Saikou kept an egg from Ryoba and inseminated the Wife. This would make her Ayano's maternal half-sister.
I don't suscribe to this theory. Well, first of all, considering the timeline, Crazy Grandpa was the one behind the deal we'll mention later with Ryoba. I don't think he would have wasted his time finding a wife with perfect genes for his son if he had planned for her to only be an incubator.
Also, another reason, Megami's little antenae. It's a part of her design that she gets from her mother. The Wife is also mentioned to have given birth to two children, Megami and Kencho, which wasn't a necessary precision. Alex would have probably found a way to circumvent this if she hasn't really have birth to Megami.
So no, sorry, Megami probably isn't a yandere.
So... if Ayano and Megami aren't related throught Ryoba... how are they sisters ?
Through Ichirou. Simply enough.
Yeah, as great of a dad Jokichi is, he is probably not Ayano's biological father. Ayano is a copy paste of Ryoba, so he doesn't share anything in common with Ayano design-wise, that could indicate he is indeed her father. We don't even know that much about him as an adult. The Characters page doesn't mention him being Ayano's father, he is only described as the student he was back in the 80s.
However, Ichirou is described as extremely similar personality wise to Ayano. While Ayano is probably emotionless due to the Aishi curse, she is way more stoic than Ryoba in her own mode. But that's still a weak evidence, this is way I will back this up with the timeline.
We know that Ryoba has given birth to a daughter very late compared to her own mother and grandmother. These reasons are said to be plot related and big spoilers. Again, Ayano's father isn't mentioned as a parent, only Ryoba.

I recently went through my text document that lists all character ages and birthdates and changed a few things. Aishi women now give birth at 18. Ryoba, however, gave birth at 31, for plot-related reasons that will be revealed in the true ending (or perhaps in the basement tapes).

So, this is my own theory on what happened.
Just shut up and tell us what happened already
In the timeline, it is mentioned Ryoba's mother kept her Senpai in her basement. In 1984, when Ryoba was still a child, Saikou Corp renovated all the houses in Buraza Town for free, including Ryoba's house. Why was this even mentioned ? Because it was the first meeting between the Saikou and Aishi families.
Crazy Grandpa found out about the weird shit happening in the Aishi's basement. He learns about the Aishi curse. He decides to keep an eye on the Aishi's daughter at Akademi. Everything Ryoba did to get her Senpai convinces him the Aishi gene is the perfect gene to create an emotionless heir.

Kocho is extremely reluctant to let Ryoba return to the school, stand on a stage, and hand her a diploma but was told by Saisho Saikou to let it go.

He orders his men to abduct Jokichi as an hostage, so she would agree to have a meeting. That's when they made a deal, that Ryoba would be the mother of the future Saikou heir. But not only is Ichiro not old enough, he wants to find the perfect wife for him. She can marry her Senpai and have well paying jobs in the meantime.
Ten years after that, Ryoba has a meeting with Saikou and his son. And according to Kencho, she is apparently a regular.

She walked straight through the waiting room and directly into Mr. Saikou's office, without even speaking a single word to the secretary.

How long had that woman been coming here? How often? What business did she have here?
Kencho asks the secretary details, and we are told :

The secretary was silent for a few moments, and then gave me some generic platitude about how "the details of Mr. Saikou's appointments must be kept strictly confidential."

So either Saisho fired the previous secretary, or this meeting must be extremely confidential. Because that secretary was a huge gossip when it came to Ichiro and Saisho's falling off.
We get the confirmation it is a big deal as all the employees act the same at the mention of Ryoba.

When they saw how distraught I was, they were eager to help, but...
...When I asked them about that woman who just walked by, they... their attitudes changed in a heartbeat.
They slowly turned away from me and returned to their work in silence.
They ignored me, as if I wasn't even there! I haven't been treated like that since I was a schoolboy!

It was as if that woman was a taboo subject that no-one was allowed to speak of...or that...
He asks about her several times but Crazy Grandpa shuts him down. Kencho mentions Ichiro was there for all the meetings, but he has only heard him speak a handful of times. However, we also know that Ryoba and Ichiro have spoken with each other.
2004, Ichiro is in his mid-twenties. He gets married to the Wife. That's when his two daughters are born : Megami is born to the Wife, as the official heir to Saikou. Ayano is born to Ryoba, away from the Saikou family, as the bearer of the Aishi curse.
How exactly what Ayano born ? It is unlikely Ryoba would have cheated on Jokichi, which is why many have theorized on an insemination. Considering Saikou is a tech company, it's not out of reach.

He had two children, in accordance with his father's wishes; 'One as a backup in case the first child fails you.'

Yes, this might refer to Kencho. But this might also refer to Ayano. After all, Saisho did have twin daughters, before having a spare...
One was raised to be emotionless. One was born emotionless. It was the old debate, nurture against nature. Which one would produce the perfect heir to the eyes of the Saikou ?
Crazy grandpa retires in 2019, right before Megami and Ayano enter Akademi, and Ichiro becomes CEO.
Ichiro wants to select the perfect heir. And for that, he decides he will select the one who will come out on top, between Megami and Ayano. He seals a deal with Kencho about Ayano.

There is...one tape...that I'm already prepared to part ways with... The tape I made after Mr. Saikou's recent, ah...demands. It's far, far too risky for a recording like that to exist... That one...must be destroyed...immediately.

We know this deal is about Ayano. When Kencho kills Ayano as he feels threatened, he says "Mr. Saikou, the deal is off".
Ryoba and Jokichi both work for Saikou. We know from the headmaster that Ryoba and Ichiro have frequent meetings. She is able to walk in his office regularly. Why ? To discuss their daughter.
When Ryoba announces they are going to America, and Jokichi worries about their job, she says she gave a call to their boss and "he was very understanding". I used to interpret this as their boss being scared of Ryoba. But if their boss is Ichirou, there might be a reason he was so understanding. If Jokichi and Ryoba were to get away from Buraza Town, they wouldn't get in the way of his plans.
After Ayano disposes of Osana, we get a cutscene where he is on the phone with Ichiro. He seems very pleased with the unfolding events, and tells Kencho these deaths are "necessary casualties" for the "progress of science". Normal CEO activity, nothing wrong here.
But Megami also learns about this, as she is aware of the presence of a dangerous individual. Either Ichiro told her, or she might have discovered it by herself. Ichiro keeps her away from school for several weeks. She attends school through Zoom.
In very early builds of the game, you could find a laptop in the school. You would get to see Megami as a shadowy figure, back when she still had black hair. And here's her monologue :

I know who you are. I know WHAT you are. My father won't allow me to attend school while you are... "active". He has a reason for tolerating your presence at this school. I don't. You are a vulgar creature that is only allowed to exist because you serve a purpose. If it was my decision, then every last one of you would be exterminated.

And here's the end of Megami's description.

Megami clearly has some very important information that would cause her to go to such extreme lengths...but what does she know? Does Saikou Corp have anything to do with it? And, more importantly, does Senpai have anything to do with it?

So yeah, that's it for me folks, I'm putting the tin foil hat away and going back to my regular activities. If you have any counterpoint or anything to add, please tell it in the comments.

Beginnings. Illustrious. Vivacious. Monstrous. Scintillating. Star-Studded. Nautical. Creeping. Vainglorious. Luminous. Villainous. Venerable. Exuberant. Esteemed. Legendary…. Epic. Wonderful, Briliant, Victorious, Foundational, Iconic!!! Champions. Sixteen of them. One prize. One Ultimate Champion. Who will beat all other winners and become the ultimate winner themselves? As we get ready to close the curtain one last time on Bunny’s Big Brother, let’s find out who is the Shining Star of our champion cast in Bunny’s Pokémon Big Brother CHAMPION ROYALE!
Season Finale: CHAMPION ROYALE!!!
Meet the Cast:
Season 1 – Lance the Escavalier
Season 2 – Carlos the Pangoro
Season 3 – Nickels the Nickit
Season 4 – Xio the Meowscarada
Season 5 – Selene the Lampent
Season 6 – Candy the Wigglytuff
Season 7 – Splaatz the Stunfisk
Season 8 – Dirk the Kricketune
Season 9 – Echo the Arctibax
Season 10 – Mobee the Bewear
Season 11 – Professor Bane the Crobat
Season 12 – Lisette the Solrock
Season 13 – Maeva the Chimeco
Season 14 – Dayley-Jane the Dewgong
Season 15 – DJ Volt Switch the Emolga
Season 16 – Benedict the Chespin
Intro: We are reporting live at the site of Bunny’s Pokémon Big Brother Finale House! The crowd is thick and loud as fans from all over are excited to watch the sixteen champions enter the house LIVE! We stand in Poketopia, home of the Battle Revolution! The Shining Neon Colloseum, in a penthouse suite in the grand city is where the final bout will begin! Here come the Legendary Sixteen right now!!!! Lance the original winner is so stunning in his armor! Carlos has evolved and looks much tougher. Nickels is strutting in conifdent as ever next to Xio, who looks completely unphased by all of the winners around her! Selene fits right in with the bright lights. Looks like Candy is evolved as well and—OH—she tripped over Splaatz. That’s embarrassing and you can tell she isn’t happy even if she’s putting on a smile. Dirk and Echo are next, both eyeing up the competition already. Echo being evolved now already ups his threat level. Mobee gets an uproarious cheer from the crowd! And WOW the Professor gracefully glides over the crowd! He really did escape capture back in Mazda’s Season. Lisette seems to be meditating and Maeva is pumping herself up. She looks a bit snooty now that we know how she really is but we are eager to see how she plays. Dayley-Jane gets another huge cheer from the crowd. She really is a lovable gal ain’t she? DJ clicks a track on the DJ booth to keep one last song playing but then hops out to join the entourage. She’s still keeping up her day job too, so inspiring! Finally, Benedict walks up. Unlike the others, he looks somber. Wonder what his deal is? Oh well, let’s watch them all compete in the bright stadium for the first HOH!
First HOH: In this bright lights HOH, the houseguests all race to complete a task, with the first to complete it knocking someone out of the running. In the first heat, Maeva clears first and knocks out Bane because he came in second and is a huge comp threat. In the next round, Echo wins and takes out Maeva, who just won. Splaatz wins round three by accident and takes out Day, who was big on his original season. Candy wins next and takes out Nickels. Xio takes out DJ, followed by Benedict winning and immediately knocking Xio out. Candy wins again and takes out Dirk. Echo then wins again to take out Candy before she gets too much momentum. Carlos wins and takes out Lance, Mobee then wins and takes out Carlos, Benedict then wins and takes out Mobee! Splaatz wins again and takes out Selene as she is hiding in the background. Lisette wins the next round to take out Benedict. In the final three, Echo wins again and takes out Lisette, as she did a good job hiding til then. In Splaatz versus Echo, the fish surprisingly keeps up with the dragon and at the last second, takes over?!?!?! Splaatz is the first HOH!
Week 1: Splaatz is very confused how he won that last round but Echo comes up and congratulates him. The two get along well and Splaatz works up the courage to ask to be in an alliance, which the dragon happily agrees. Bane goes to Candy to tell her that the villains need to stick together, she agrees and they grab Maeva. She is initially reluctant, not trusting Bane, but she agrees eventually. Mobee goes to monitor the living room like before and DJ flies up to him. They end up chatting and realize they enjoy each other. At the nomination ceremony, Splaatz has decided to put up DJ and Dirk, saying how he doesn’t want to make too much waves and this seems to be the way to do it best. Dirk is unamused and DJ is frightened. Echo gets suspicious of Bane and shares his thoughts with Nickels, they pull in Carlos to form an anti-villain alliance. Benedict eavesdrops and plans his next move. He goes up to Nickels and makes up how Dirk must be playing the villain this time, because he is acting weird. Nickels considers his approach but ultimately decides to trust him as an alliance member. At the veto, Carlos, Echo, and Mobee all play but it comes down to Carlos and Splaatz. Splaatz ends up winning again but while actually trying and is exuberant! DJ pleads with him but he ultimately keeps his noms the same.
After the veto ceremony, Benedict tells DJ to do as he says and trust him, as Gigi did. She agrees and starts buttering up to the villains. She gets Candy to be even nicer to the house and apologize to Splaatz. She also helps Bane create a new game. Meanwhile, Benedict starts prodding Dirk and Day, causing them to be at odds with each other. Dirk eventually snaps and lashes out at Day, shocking everyone. Maeva can tell something fishy is happening but rolls with it since it is week one. At the eviction ceremony in the glittering colosseum, the two nominees tell why they should stay. Dirk is more bitter while DJ stays heartfelt, convincing everyone but a suspicious Maeva. In the end, by a vote of 12 to 1… Dirk, you have been evicted.
Week 2: The next HOH is a high flying roulette-themed obstacle course, based off of the Neon Colosseum’s roulette rules. DJ and Mobee work together to get to the end but Nickels keeps up with them. In the final stretch, Mobee sees Nickels catching up and throws DJ, giving her just enough of an edge to win the HOH! Nickels and Maeva both approach DJ to tell her their suspicions on Benedict’s behavior. At first, they fight, but realizing they have the same goal causes them to cut it out long enough to tell her. DJ is reluctant but Maeva reminds her how he betrayed Gigi and she is firm. Benedict and Carlos become the nominees. Day, Echo, and Maeva play in the veto and Echo actually manages to come out on top over Day. Echo talks with Nickels about saving Carlos but she is hesitant, telling him that Carlos makes a good pawn next to benedict because everyone likes Carlos. He ends up not using it. During the week, Benedict begins making breakfast early, irritating his roommate Carlos and causing him to be grumpier. Xio confronts Benedict for this, telling him he is purposefully making Carlos mad and it’s brutal. He tells her he doesn’t understand the problem if Carlos doesn’t like breakfast. She sneers but doesn’t have a comeback. The next day, Benedict holds a house meeting. He apologizes if he’s been rubbing people the wrong way but he is just trying to fit in since he is newer. Lisette says that everyone should give him a chance, which the villains, Selene, and Mobee agree with. Echo, Carlos, Nickels, and Maeva are all hesitant. At the eviction ceremony, Carlos is grumpy and bitter and doesn’t do much to defend himself. Benedict, again apologizes. In a 9 to 3 vote… Carlos is evicted.
Week 3: Several house membets are completely shocked by Carlos going home, including HOH DJ and his two allies, Nickels and Echo. Also surprised is Xio. The next HOH is an endurance comp called the floor is lava based off of the Lava Colosseum! Mobee, Splaatz, and Xio are the last three remaining. Knowing she was on the outs of the last vote, Xio fights hard to survive, fighting her pain. Splaatz eventually drops and Mobee remains with Xio. Eventually, Mobee drops and Xio wins! Xio already knows her noms. She puts up Benedict next to Selene, as she was one of the people vouching for him last round. Benedict chooses to stay back and not make too much of a scene this round, lest he blow up his cover. Meanwhile, DJ and Mobee plan how to move forward. Maeva is listening in to this convo and realizes how close they are. At the veto, a mental comp, Selene ends up winning by a landslide, saving herself. Maeva rushes to Xio about the DJ and Mobee situation, and points out how Mobee is a comp threat as well. Xio decides Mobee is a good replacement, as he is likeable and a good pawn next to Benedict. Mobee holds a house meeting and cries during it, thinking he was doing so much better at being friendly this time. Maeva calls him out for his crocodile tears and argues that he is putting on an act. Lisette calls out Maeva for being so harsh and chastises her for being such a villain. Maeva asks her if she is planning on voting for him to stay and she is silent, but says that shouldn’t matter. Maeva retorts and says it’s not jury so jury management doesn’t exist yet. At the eviction, Mobee is shaking next to a smug Benedict. Benedict’s speech touches on how Mobee doesn’t seem ready for the big leagues. The bear gets up angrily and almost picks up Benedict, shocking everyone. He stops himself and realizes what he did. The vote comes in and by a vote of 8 to 3, Mobee, you have been evicted.
Week 4: The next HOH begins as they houseguests must ascend a glimmering rock wall, themed after the Crystal colosseum. Day and Maeva take an early lead but are caught up by falling rocks. Lisette closes the gap and eventually surpasses Maeva. Day and Lisette race for the end and… Lisette win! Lisette in her HOH room ponders about who to put up and ally with. She turns to Xio, Day, and Selene as her allies. The Witch’s Coven, as they call themselves, wants to shift the focus, as Benedict is doing too well at not going home. Instead, Lisette targets Maeva, who is playing sneaky, as well as Benedict’s ally, Echo. Bane laughs at Maeva being on the block and she is enraged with him. He says “it doesn’t matter since it’s not jury yet.” Having her own words turned on her, Maeva storms out and swears she will get revenge on him and Candy. At the POV, the witches’ coven is playing with three members and Xio ends up winning! She chooses to keep the nominations the same. Splaatz goes to Lance to tell him how much it means to be there with one of his heros, but Lance mishears him and calls him out for calling him a rude name. The two get in a petty argument where Lance’s bad hearing keeps making things worse. Meanwhile, Maeva tries to get the vote off of her by spreading anti-Benedict propaganda around the house. Day has a change of heart about this and wants to vote out Echo, even while her alliance is targeting Maeva. Benedict, aware his name is still out there, pleads to DJ not to vote out his ally. At the eviction, Maeva thinks she has done enough work but the vote comes out and is a 5 to 5. The Coven is shocked, one of their own must have flipped. But Lisette gets to break the tie, and is all too happy to evict her target, Maeva.
Week 5: The next HOH is themed after the Sunset colosseum, and sees the houseguests racing to stack piles of rubble. Echo, DJ, and Xio make the highest stack but DJ’s crumbles before the time limit. Both wanting to take control, Echo and Xio try really hard to build the highest. The timer buzzes aaaand Echo is the winner! Benedict instinctively high fives Echo and celebrates with him. Later, Nickels is peeved that Echo is so publicly working with Benedict. Echo tells her she had the opportunity to have a good ally but she chose to burn that bridge and that’s her fault. Offended, she tells him to make that alliance with Benedict work out but she won’t be part of it. Echo is saddened, but doesn’t want to put Nickels up. Instead, he shifts the target to former villains, with Bane being the target and Selene going up next to him. Xio cheers that Selene could be going home, making the Lamp angry at her, since they were supposed to be working together. Benedict goes on to win the veto and vows to Echo not to use it. However, at the veto ceremony, he uses it to save Selene, shocking everyone as he winks at Xio. Echo then solidifies this by putting Xio up. Selene goes to her to tell her she is sorry for their misunderstanding but they work together. Candy turns to Lisette and tells her she is tired of working with Bane and if she helps her get the Professor out this week, she will work with her. Lisette agrees, knowing everyone wants Bane out anyways. At the eviction, Xio seemingly patches things up with everyone. The vote comes in, by a unanimous vote… Bane, you are evicted.
Double Eviction: Surprise! The Jury starts tonight and the next HOH is beginning right now with one more person leaving! A quiz colosseum is held in the Sunset colloseum, with one miss causing someone to be out of the running. It comes down to DJ, Nickels, and Lisette. But Lisette gets the last question right and the other two miss, with Lisette winning her second HOH. Lisette puts up Nickels and Day. Nickels because she is playing a lowkey game but making waves in the Benedict situation. Day because she wavered on her vote for Benedict. She doesn’t put down Benedict as he is good for drama and polarizing the house, which is good for her game. Nickels wins the veto and takes herself off. Lisette decides to put up Splaatz, because she is worried he will fumble his way to the end. Most people seem to share this idea except for Echo, who wants to wotk with Splaatz. The vote comes in. By a vote of 7 to 1… Splaatz, you have been evicted and will be moving into the jury house.
Week 6: The Next HOH begins as a race through the mysterious mansion in the courtyard colosseum. No one can tell where anyone is but Candy comes out first and wins! As HOH, Candy calls in Benedict. She tells him he has been playing a sloppy and obvious villain game and he is gonna get evicted too soon if he doesn’t simmer down and get some real allies. He is shocked and admits he just wants to win. She says they all do and the least they can do is help each other. She says she will help him if he keeps causing more chaos and also gets DJ on their side. He agrees and talks to DJ. The squirrel is hesitant but decides it would be a great way of getting revenge on Benedict if she gets the chance. Candy puts up Lance as the pawn next to her target, Xio, who has been against Benedict’s chaos this whole game. DJ goes on to win the veto and chooses to not give Candy any suspicion by not using it. Meanwhile, the witches coven fractures, with Day not agreeing with Lisette and Xio feeling not supported on the block by Selene. DJ infiltrates this meeting after storms out, telling them about Xio being the real target but she has a plan to keep her without drawing suspicion if they can get Day to play nice. Xio borrows an item from Lisette and breaks it. Lisette then goes to “rant” to Day, who is being nice with her, thinking they both will vote Xio. Echo, meanwhile, confirms his alliance with Benedict, and feels like he is finally gaining more traction. But the house takes this the wrong way. At the eviction, the vote comes in, and by a vote of 4 to 3… Lance, you have been evicted.
Week 7: The next HOH begins, a waterfall diving competition, based off of the Waterfall Colosseum. Whoever makes the biggest splash wins! With her natural watery prowess, Day dives in and wins the HOH! Day is approached in the HOH by Candy and Benedict, who ask her to work with them. DJ sees whats happening and goes back to Lisette and Selene. The two talk and realize that they can’t beat Benedict’s control of the house by just going against him, but they have to work with him. So the three of DJ, Lisette, and Selene enter the HOH “accidentally” and propose the six will control the house. They say they want Echo to go on the block, as he is getting too good at the comps. Benedict is hesitant but Candy nudges him, as secretly this will be great for her game. He agrees and tells Day he won’t be mad if this happens. Echo goes up next to Nickels. The two former allies face off in the veto, both bitterly making jabs at the other for turning on them. It comes down to just the two nominees and… Echo edges her out, winning the veto. Echo saves himself and puts the power in Day’s hands to put up a replacement. Her choice is the person not in her alliance who has made affronts to her, Xio. Lisette has the whole house do tarot readings to ease the tension which goes down well. Lisette gets the Sun, a symbol of positivity and creativity. Benedict draws the Moon, symbolizing Illusion and inner conflict. He shudders when the white moon of the card turns red in his hands. Echo draws the Fool, a card of new beginnings but also endings. Selene draws death, the card of change in the game. Nickels draws the Hermit, a card of isolation and reflection. Candy draws the Lovers, with the card representing connections and pairs, symbolizing her manipulation of Benedict. Day draws Strength, a card of inner strength and Willpower. Xio draws the Tower, representing sudden downfall and incredible sudden changes. She shudders and uses the moment to apologize to everyone, saying she wants to be a beacon of hope but got lost. The house receives this well. Benedict considers flipping to Xio because of her show of faith being bad but Candy reminds him that Xio is on the bottom of the pecking order on that side, likely meaning they don’t even have to take her out. He relents and the eviction goes through. The vote comes in and by a vote of 5 to 1, Nickels you have been evicted.
Week 8: The Next HOH begins in the Sunny Park colosseum, with contestants having to hunt for pellets and use them to knock out targets. DJ and Echo prove the most adept but in a last second victory, Echo wins. Benedict goes to Echo in the HOH but Echo has realized too late that Benedict is working with everybody, even causing him to turn on Nickels. Benedict doesn’t try to hide his smug smirk as he agrees and walks out, daring him to put him on the block. He feels this must be hiding something and starts asking around the house for their opinions. Xio reveals the existence of the Witches Coven, and how they have been together for weeks, including saving her last week. Knowing of this alliance, Echo saves Xio and puts up Selene and Day. At the veto, Selene wins. Selene approaches Echo, telling him she knows of someone playing both sides, revealing DJ trying to play double agent. After she pulls herself off the block, DJ goes up as the replacement. Candy works on ingratiating herself with the outsiders in Xio and Echo, trying to forge paths ahead. But is unsuccessful at breaking Echo. Echo is accosted by DJ for putting her up over Benedict. He asks her to say why she was double crossing and she says its because she was trying to sabotage Benedict. If anything, Day, Selene, and Lisette should be the real double agents. Echo goes to rage to Selene for how she tricked him but she swears it was the truth completely, and he chose to believe it in a negative light, not her. Day joins the fight and lashes out at Xio and Selene for being the reason she is on the block. Lisette stays out of it, knowing the time to jump ship is coming up. At the eviction, Dj and DayJay give their pleas, but the votes are tallied. By a unanimous vote… Dayley-Jane, you have been evicted.
Double Eviction!!: Second double eviction because you know we gotta! The HOH starts with a lightning round of dodgeball on wooden poles. Selene is knocked out first. Then DJ gets knocked out by Candy. Lisette falls off on her own. Xio goes after Benedict but is taken out by Candy. Then Candy expertly dodges and takes out Benedict, winning the HOH. She nominates the two people who are on the bottom of the pecking order, Echo and Xio. The veto plays out with Benedict winning. Echo pleads for Benedict to help him out, as they were friends. Benedict doesn’t even look him in the eye as he chooses to not play the veto. Echo pleads to the voters to let him keep playing and he will take out Benedict, but Lisette and Selene have basically already jumped ship and moved on. The vote comes in, and by a vote of 4 to 0… Echo, you have been evicted.
Week 9: With Six houseguests remaining, they are taken to the Gateway colosseum to have mock Pokemon battles. In the first round, Xio beats Lisette and Selene beats DJ, with Benedict drawing a spot in the top 3. In a first to win two times in a row scenario, Selene beats both and comes out victorious. Selene and Lisette decide that they have to cut ties and work with the more devious players to have a better shot at the end. Selene puts up DJ and Xio, with DJ being the target. Benedict is alone in his room when he hallucinates more blood on his paws. He shouts and Xio comes in to see whats up. She helps him calm down and he realizes he is down a bad path. She helps him calm down and he thanks her, even with him harassing her all game she still helped him. Candy witnesses the two help each other out and is beyond irritated, she goes to Selene, who is still iffy on Xio, to warn her. At the veto, Candy wins it. She takes off DJ and Selene spitefully puts up Benedict, who trembles going to the block. Lisette confronts Selene for making such a rushed decision, as the goal was to keep Benedict and his threat around longer. At the eviction, Benedict argues that he has realizes how the game has changed him and he wants to prove how he changed. Lisette doesn’t believe him but DJ seems to be enamored. The vote comes in, and by a vote of 2 to 1… Xio you have been evicted.
Week 10: Five stars remain and there are five points in the Stars of the Main Street colosseum, where the houseguests go to do a full BPBB quiz! Lisette misses one question and gets behind as the other get ahead. It comes down to a tie-breaker between Dj and Benedict and the winner is… DJ! Benedict goes to apologize to DJ for real and she forgives him, happy to see his true self back again. She feels played by Selene and Candy so they go on the block. Lisette is still suspicious of Benedict and starts watching him for suspicious activity, noticing him look at his paws a lot. She decides to talk to him with the ruse of working together. At the veto, DJ wins again and claims her game, choosing not to use the veto. Realizing the danger they are in, Selene and Candy go to their respective closest allies, Benedict and Lisette. The two touch base with Benedict telling Lisette he is fine voting Candy with her, as he doesn’t want to force DJ to have to break a tie. At the eviction, the votes are read and by a vote of 2 to 0… Selene, you have been evicted. Benedict looks over at Lisette with a shocked look, realizing she caught on to him.
Week 10: As the final HOH starts, the houseguest are in the Stargazer colosseum for an epic triathlon of quizzes, endurance, and races. In the first part, Benedict pulls ahead, with Lisette on his tail. He falls behind in part two, giving Lisette and Candy a chance to catch him. The three are neck and neck in part three but Lisette comes out on top! Benedict goes to Lisette on her HOH to grovel but she stops him, saying she misheard the vote last week and though the vote was for Selene anyways so its good he didn’t make poor DJ break the tie. He feels reassured and goes back out. Lisette puts up DJ and Candy as the nominees. Lisette reassures DJ about how Benedict likes her and she wouldn’t go home. Benedict touches base with Lisette, claiming that he knows DJ has too much social traction and needs to go next because of this. On his way out, Candy enters the room and chats with Lisette. She says that the noms should stay the same so DJ can be evicted for sure this week. Lisette doesn’t trust her and tells her to her face she is no better than Benedict, but is powerless without him. The two stare each other down. At the veto, Lisette wins it, and Benedict sighs a sigh of relief. But Lisette shocks everyone by saving Candy and puts up Benedict. Lisette calls him out for faking his turnaround to play with everyone’s emotions. He breaks down, claiming his intense want, no, NEED to win the game. He can’t get it out of his head and it burdens him with the thoughts of betrayal, including the allies he betrayed this season, with Nickels, Echo, and even Xio who showed him so much kindness leaving because of him. DJ is in tears and even Candy can’t watch. Afterwards, Benedict goes to his only real ally, Candy. He begs her for advice on how to get out of this, as she helped him so much. She looks him in the eye as she tells him that he did this to himself. At the eviction, Candy gets the sole vote to evict and casts it to evict, Benedict.
The Reunion: Folks we are live again right outside the Neon Colosseum for the Finale of Bunny’s Pokémon Big Brother Champion Royale! Our Sixteen winners have been whittled down to three and it is not what we expected at all! In a house where everyone wants to be the biggest truck on the highway, we have three mid-sized sedans who have slipped through the gaps and swept their way to the end. DJ VOLT SWITCH, Elesa’s iconic Emolga who created the jams we are listening to even right now! She plays up her social game very well with honesty and loyalty, but is no slouch in the competitions. Though she has been left out of some secrets in the game, she was well=liked in the house and leveraged her position between alliances to get information! Sweet Candy the Wigglytuff who played Sickly Sweet last but downright Sick this time. She got in close with all of the villains but managed to be the cherry flavored licorice that was easier to manage. She avoided detection aligning with big villain Benedict and hiding behind the scenes of his chaos, even almost controlling his moves at points. The Sunstone herself, LISETTE the Solrock, who foresaw victory once, but is this a double reading? Lisette bided her time throughout the game, getting whatever information she could and waiting to play it until the time was right. She was at the center of multiple alliances but always stayed just far enough away from the drama that no one was even targeting her. The Sun? No Lisette is after The World!
Joining us on stage now are the 9 jurors! Starting with Splaatz—Ope watch your step, you gotta be careful or else you’ll trip. Here comes Lance the OG! Though he is old he is still our knight in shining armor. Nickels struts up so casually ooh lala. Here comes Echo, kind of sheepishly, don’t be shy buddy! Day gracefully swims up on stage, still to audience cheering. Wait, the cheering is getting louder? Oh it’s Xio! She is surprisingly well-received. Selene keeps the applause growing. She seems to be goading the audience on with her behavior, not wanting to stay out of the spotlight hmm. And then—oh wow I can’t hear anything with the thunder of the crowd for… Benedict? Interesting outcome here that our little villain has become a real crowd pleaser. Even as he walks to his seat with his head held low.
The jurors speak with our lovely reporter. Lance speaks about how great it was to come back and how this game is way changed from when he won season 1. Xio and Nickels agree, but they still worked hard to adapt to the changes. Selene scoffs a bit, another early winner, she notes that herself and Candy were very well integrated, they just needed to change their approach. Xio says it was much harder playing from the bottom rather than the top and it was a fight, but she had a ton of fun doing so. Day mentions she felt the same way. A house full of winners is not to be underestimated for a second, as they all could be planning many different things behind each other’s backs. Splaatz is—oh he’s asleep… moving on. Nickels asks Echo about how he changed his game this time, and why he turned on her. He apologizes, saying he was blinded by seeing opportunities with Benedict because he didn’t fight with him, only told him what he wanted to hear. And he realized too late that that was a ruse. She accepts his apologies and all eyes turn to Benedict. He looks up, seemingly just noticing eyes are on him. He looks down at his paws. “All I’ve seen since last season is blood on my paws. The need to win never left me. I had to do it at all cost. I lost myself in that game and resorted to every trick in the book to make the winners trust me. And it worked… but I fell deeper and deeper down the hole. And now, I don’t feel like I deserved to win at all.” Xio jumps up and makes him look up. “You deserved your win as much as we all deserved ours. It’s a game, it doesn’t have to define you. You define you, so get up and prove it.” Benedict is in disbelief that Xio is still defending him. “You hear that crowd? They were entertained, we entertained them! Your devioushness entertained them! You gave them a show by tricking a bunch of winners, so own up to it and be the entertainer we know you are.” He gives off a small, barely noticeable,but definitely real this time, smile. Xio turns to the crowd “ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR OUR FINAL THREE???” The crowd erupts in excitement!! “THEN GET READY BECAUSE HERE THEY ARE!!”
Final HOH Part 1: The HOH opens on top of the rotating Roulette wheel in the Neon Colosseum, with the audience now filled and the three houseguests circling in the middle, holding on for dear life. At the same time, they are throwing dodgeballs at each other. Candy is targeting Lisette out of spite, putting on a performance for the audience about how Lisette is a traitor to their alliance. DJ is caught in the crossfire but expertly dodges. She manages to catch a ball that Candy threw and chucks it back, knocking her out. Lisette smiles at DJ but DJ knows she still has to win. She tells Lisette she is sorry but she is done working with people and has to take her game into her own hands, not relying on others to fail but herself to succeed. Lisette agrees, but she wants to be the one to succeed. Lisette lobs a ball at Dj and knocks her out, winning Part 1.
Final HOH Part 2: Part begins with Candy and DJ on the Rotating Roulette platform again, racing around to land the colored balls in order of the competitions and the winners of each one. DJ takes an early lead, having been very aware of the game the whole beginning. Candy struggles at first but when she catches up to leaving the villains alliance and joining Benedict, she takes off, knowing how well she played Benedict as her own puppet that she controlled votes for that she easily crushes the midgame part. Her lead takes her ahead on time going into the endgame. DJ misses a key vote and has to go back, but Candy remembers who saved Benedict countless times, and gets it right, winning part 2.
Final HOH Part 3: The crowd is in uproars as Candy and Lisette reach the stage for final quiz, again on our roulette platform (we paid a lot of money for that). Each juror question goes by, with Lisette and Candy answering in tandem, Both get question after question correct, eventually reaching the last question about Benedict. The crowd is shocked as they both answer together again and… get it wrong. Well, that’s anticlimactic. Benedict sighs, no one knew his true self. But the tie-breaker is revealed, how many rotations has the rotating platform made? With both answering two numbers away from each other, Candy goes just over, eliminating her, and crowning Lisette the final HOH. Lisette has both DJ and Candy in front of her. She doesn’t say much but looks at them. She says that DJ played an impeccable social game and is incredibly loved by the fans and the house. Candy, meanwhile, played a strategic game and almost fooled her a couple times. She turns to Candy “I made a gamble with bringing a social threat to the end before with Amni, but not this time. Candy, let’s give em a show.” And casts her vote to evict DJ.
The Jury Questioning: DJ isn’t shocked, she did a lot this time around and knew she made herself a bigger threat. She exits the house and gets cheers from the audience! She hops to the DJ booth and begins playing the final epic track for the showdown between Candy and Lisette. Both have been in this position before in the final 2 and both have won, but now, only one can become a two-time winner and be crowned the ultimate Champion! Lisette opens with her speech first. She pitches her game strong, how she gravitated towards groups in the early game without committing too strongly, so she didn’t go down with the ship. She still managed to control so many votes in the house by having reach with her Witches Coven and eventually jumping ship and siding with Benedict, as she knew he was under Candy’s thumb and she could infiltrate that alliance to get to the end and destroy it. The jury is impressed by her showing and all eyes turn to Candy. Candy starts saying how she knew her game was already known going into the house and she had to play different. Her main strategy was to fall into the background and connect with the players playing sloppier than her so she could be the puppetmaster and sneak to the end. And for her, that was found in Benedict, who she found it very easy to manipulate. She is the villain they all knew she was but she wasn’t targeted because of her great strategy. She saved Benedict’s game and carried him to the end so that she could have a guaranteed extra life in the endgame with him. Murmurs arise from the jury, Benedict looks incredibly hurt. Xio asks Candy what her biggest move was outside of controlling Benedict. Candy says that she made sure that the villains she worked with got cut before she could get too powerful, even working with Lisette to get out Bane and Maeva. DJ gets up from the booth and asks Lisette why she went to the end with Candy instead of her if she thought Candy was going to be tougher. Lisette clarifies that she thought Candy would be good at explaining her game, but she knows not to rely on other’s failing but on herself to succeed, and DJ has a great story and was well-loved and if she wanted to win, she had to cut DJ and masterfully explain her game to the jury. Benedict finally speaks up to ask Candy if he meant anything to her at all throughout the game. She hesitates, caught off guard, before replying in all honesty that, she wanted to mentor him to be a better player. He says he did well enough for making it to the end twice and didn’t need her to do all that. In their final speeches, Candy says that she used other people as her pawns and navigated a really good game to make it to the end hidden amongst the other players. Lisette says that she played a perfect game, not even touching the block and noting that she has not received a vote against her in either of her games, this one being perfect. She finishes by saying how she played more up front and aggressive to counter the sneakier players of the season and did not back down from the threats that all the winners possessed. The jury is impressed and goes to cast their votes.
Jury Voting: Splaatz says he had a fun time playing again and wants to vote for someone who played really good, even showing him more how to play. Lance says that while some people are old school, some people are REALLY old school, but can still play with the best of the best and be even better. Nickels says she is honored to be in the winners season but one winner played like how she thinks a winner should. Day says she worked with both finalists, but she always felt the house pulling towards one player, as the sun has a lot of gravity and control over the tides. Echo says point blank that he felt the manipulation from both sides, but one felt malicious, and another felt like game, and he knows which he respects more. Xio says that some lines shouldn’t be crossed. Selene says that she was honored to be so thoroughly outplayed, turning from the Queen to the Pawn who was merely a stepping stone in someone elses game, it was thrilling. Benedict silently casts his vote. DJ cues the final tune before hopping down with her vote, saying that it should be obvious. The votes come in… by a vote of 9 to 0… the winner is…
Winner: Lisette!
Runner-Up: Candy!
Confetti cannons and flamethrowers start lighting up the sky with neon streams shining bright all over the sky! Though it is the dead of night, it is as bright as the sun, and Lisette is feeling absolutely radiant. Candy sits in shock, in disbelief. Lisette throws her the Lovers card again. “You misread it the first time so maybe you can learn before you try to tell the fortune teller what her fortune is.” Candy throws the card on the ground in anger and pouts. The jurors go and cheer for Lisette, the ultimate champion and two time winner, STILL having never received a single vote to evict in two entire seasons. The fan favorite vote comes in and… IT’S A TIE???
Fan Favorites: Benedict and Xio!!!
Benedict goes up to Candy, still fuming, and looks her in the eyes. “You know what, you really did teach me something. You taught me that some people never change, but I don’t have to be one of them.” Xio comes up and takes Benedict back to the celebration, sticking her tongue out at Candy as she leaves. The party goes through the night. The sun eventually rises, as Lisette has risen to the top of the competition, as this era of Bunny’s Pokemon Big Brother has come to an end.
My Thoughts: I enjoyed this season a lot. It kept me on the edge as the winners played their games again, some way better than others. Gameplay-wise, I think I preferred last season but I think it’s more so because of the subtle moves made in the dark as no one wanted to be too big of a target. The villains ended up flopping early, which kind of was to be expected, given that everyone else is a relaly smart player to have won. Candy surprised me this time, sneaking in to take over Benedict, being a key player in his storyline, even a bigger villain than he tried to be. It really helped me tie up the storyline really well and I like how it happened. She also played a stellar game again, controlling things from the chaos in the shadows. The other side of the house was not slouching though. Lisette, Selene, Xio, and Day all played smart games, not committing too much to each other but still working well enough to not crumble. Lisette as a winner for this season is great! She put in work to keep her position, as it was in danger of falling apart so much. She leveraged every ally she had and every competition she had to get forward every week. And it worked as she got to the end without hitting the block AGAIN and played a PERFECT game, not receiving a single vote to evict and getting every vote to win. She did that in a winner season too, ultimate winner for sure!
So whats next? Well... that's the end. I knew since the beginning that Season 17 would be the end but it coming up still feels so weird. I am about to start a busy summer and don't have as much time for all of my hobbies but I still feel sad finishing this series. I think I am going to make a series epilogue soon so stay tuned for that but... otherwise that's it. I thank you all again so much for sticking with me the whole time, it's been a wonderful journey!

His ex sent me this message. Sorry it’s so long! Has anybody else gotten a similar message in the past? How did you react?
Message below: “It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”
TLDR: my SO’s ex messaged me saying he’s been seeing both of us for the past year and a half. Has anybody experienced this before. She sent me pictures from the past year of them and their text exchanges

His ex sent me this message, should I believe it? I don’t know what to do. Sorry the message is really long!
“It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”

Previous thread
This is the weekly translation status update thread. Use this thread to discuss translation news, issues, titles you're looking forward to, etc.
Note: This is simply a mirror from 4chan's weekly thread on the /jp/ board. All credit goes to the user VNTS there. I'm simply copying and pasting for discussion sake here since some people can't access 4chan.
Entries in Bold have had changes since last week
Entries in itallics denote my own changes

Fan Translations

• 12RIVEN -the Ψcliminal of integral- - 42% translated
• Aiyoku No Eustia - In progress 100% TL patch leaked, project to continue, 100% Translated/edited/TLC
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Principal-tachi no Kyuujitsu~ - 100% translated and edited, 70.11% through QA
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Tsumibukaki Shuumatsuron~ - 100% translated, 41,122 lines edited (67.64%), 4,508 (7.42%) through QA
• Axanael - "Overwhelming majority" of the text translated, including the main story, some side content remains, in need of editing
• CHAOS;HEAD Love Chu Chu! - 70.54% translated, 22.70% edited
• CHAOS;CHILD Love Chu Chu!! - 100% translated, 55.30% edited
• Chusingura 46+1 - 36455/82770 (44.04%) lines translated, Kuranosuke route partial patch released
• Dragon Knight 4 - 60% translated, playtesting also ongoing
• Fate/Stay Night - Partial patch released with a new translation for Fate/UBW/9 days of HF
• Haruka na Sora - Sora and Yahiro routes translated, Kozue 75% translated, Sora 90% edited
• Honoo no Haramase Oppai Nyuu Doukyuusei ~Oppai mo Haramase! New Class Zen'in Harama-sensation!~ - Picked up, porting to Ren'Py
• If My Heart Had Wings: Snow Presents - 100% translated, 100% edited
• Jisatsu no Tame no 101 no Houhou - 17% translated
• Junketsu Megami-Sama - 2nd Alpha patch released, Astarotte route finishing up
• Kaseki no Uta - 100% translated, 4770/15389 (31%) edited
• Ken ga Kimi - 58% translated
• Koukan no Toriko-Tachi - Prologue, common, and Cuckold Play route translated, Swinging Route 35%, Yukari POV 40%
• Kud Wafter - AA Version 23,835/31,579 (75.5%) Lines translated, 18+ Version 19,240 / 33,113 (58.1%) lines translated
• Kusarihime ~Euthanasia~ - Translation finished, fully edited
• Lover Able - 100% translated and edited, 9419/32258 lines approved (29.47%)
• Lucky Star ~Ryouou Gakuen Outousai~ - episode 1 patch released
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A - Ryouken Route After - 1942/3,494 (55.58%) lines translated
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A Plus Disk - Preparing files
• Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru - 66% translated
• Miagete Goran, Yozora no Hoshi o - 1 of 4 routes translation finished for the restoration patch, Houkiboshi Hika 2 of 4 H-scenes translated
• Mujou no Erasmus - The Erasmus two-faced stories - Released
• Nursery Rhyme - 100% translated and edited, text insertion 100% complete, testing ongoing
• Pure Pure - 100% translated, needs proofreading, partial patch released, all routes have been inserted
• Sakura no Uta - Chapter I 30% translated
• Sakura No Toki - 9.42% translated, 8.55% edited
• Sakura Wars 2 - Demo patch released, ADV, Battle, and "Long Day in the Theater" mode fully translated, disc 1 text inserted
• Sen no Hatou, Tsukisome no Kouki - Both original and fan disc 100% translated, in need of editing
• Shirotsume Yubiwa - 100% translated, 50% beta patch released
• Shizuku - 120/197 script files translated, 20/197 edited
• Taima Seiko Alice - 40% translated, 35% edited, 35% proofread, 1st partial patch out
• Tenshi no Inai 12-gatsu - 100% translated, Editing ongoing
• To Heart - 720/993 scripts translated, 200/993 edited
• Tokimeki Memorial 2 - Being translated
• Tokimeki Memorial Girls Side 4 - 55% translated
• Tsui no Sora Remake - 100% translated and edited, finalization progressing
• Umi kara Kuru Mono - 91/138 scripts translated
• Ushinawareta Mirai o Motomete - 22325/35416 (63.0%) lines translated
• Yosuga no Sora - Translation finished, editing and TLC ongoing, Total: TL 100% TLC 71% ED 55%, Common/Kazuha/Motoka/Sora routes fully edited

Official work

MangaGamer

• The Pillagers of Raillore - Out of Beta
• Ciconia - Phase 1 Released
• Hadaka Shitsuji fandisc - Picked up
• Rance 03 - 79% translated, 41% edited
• Rance X - 94% translated, 5% edited
• Luckydog1 - 100% translated and edited
• Funbag Fantasy 4 - 84% translated, 80% edited
• Eve of the 12th Month - 100% translated and 88% edited
• DEAD DAYS - 100% translated and edited
• Beat Valkyrie Ixseal - 88% translated and 81% edited
• Welcome to a Sexy, Open World - 98% translated and 90% edited

JAST

• Sisters: Last Day of Summer - June 3rd release
• Sumaga- Slow progress ongoing
• Katahane - Progress being made again
• Django - Not actively making progress
• Tokyo Hero Project - Translation finished, dealing with bugs
• Machine Child - Still being developed
• Yomegami: My Sweet Goddess - 100% translated
• Yamizome Liberator - Picked up
• Mojika: Truth Rears Its Ugly Head - Picked up
• Djibril - 100% translated, in editing
• Masquerade: Hell Academy - Through 1st QA pass, in 2nd QA pass

Sekai/Denpa

• Happy Saint Sheol - 100% edited, 40% QA, Demo released
• Harumade Kururu - Waiting on build
• Rewrite+ Harvest Festa - 100% translated, 40% edited, Steam page up, 2024 release
• Subete no Koi ni, Hanabata o. - 50% translated
• Sumire - Picked up
• Sanarara R - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build
• Glass - Picked up
• New Glass - Picked up
• Karakara 3 - 100% translated and edited, 70% engine work
• Yume to Iro de Dekiteiru - 100% translated, 35% edited
• Zutto Mae Kara Joshi Deshita - 100% translated, in editing
• Chiisana Kanojo no Serenade - 75% translated, 35% edited
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi 10% translated
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi AA - Announced
• Akaneiro ni Somaru Saka - 50% translated
• Hamidashi Creative - Announced
• Inupara - In Development
• Nekopara After La Vraie Familie - In Development
• Raspberry Cube - Announced
• NEKO-NIN exHeart SPIN - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build

Nekonyan

• Angel Chaos RE-BOOT!- Delayed after Steam rejection
• Dracu Riot - Waiting on Build, Release date announcement on hold until after Angel Chaos
• Melty Moment - 80% translated
• Fureraba Complete edition - Vita exclusive content to be added to Fureraba a couple months after the fandisc release
• Floral Flowlove - 100% translated, 70% edited, enging port ongoing
• Kakenuke Seishun Sparking - 80% translated, 70% edited, QA started
• Love, Elections, & Chocolate - 100% translated and edited, Engine port nearly finished, entering QA shortly
• Love Love Love, Burning in my Heart! - 100% translated and 74% edited
• Ready or Not: The Deadline is Coming! - 100% translated, 99% edited, waiting on build
• Mysteries of the Heart: The Psychic Detective Case Files - 100% translated and edited, engine work in progress
• Secret Project 2 - 100% translated and edited, queued for Unity port
• Secret Project 3 - 100% translated and edited, 50% though QA

PQube

• SINce Memories: Off the Starry Sky - Announced

VisualArts

• Summer Pockets Reflection Blue - 2024 release

Dualtail

• Venus Blood Ragnarok - Kickstarter starting in May

Frontwing

• Lilja and Natsuka: Painting Lies - July 25th release
• Revue Starlight El Dorado - August 8th release
• Everlasting Flowers - August 29th release date
• Sharin no Kuni - Working to resolve remaining issues

Aksys

• Radiant Tale -Fanfare- - June 27th release
• Tales from Toyotoki: Arrival of the Witch - Summer release
• Virche Evermore -EpiC: Lycoris- - Fall release
• Despera Drops - 2025 release

Age titles

• Kiminozo - Aiming for a Summer 2024 release

Fakku

• Two Beasts Or Not To Beast!! - 2.0 version, editing in progress
• Forbidden Ward - In Pre-Production

Saikey Studios (mix of official/unofficial)

• Yaricir Kanojo ~Seiso de Yasashii Kanojo wa Yaricir no Hime Deshita~ - Released
• The Reason For Your Smile - Steam page up, Happy and NTR routes translated
• Toaru Hahaoya no Ayamachi ~Yukari Hen~ - 50% translated

HyoukanOpera

• Knight Case Files - Trial released, upcoming release

MAGES. GAME

• Corpse Party II - Darkness Distortion - 2024 release

Voltage Inc.

• Project Code Kaleido Tower - 2024 release
• Project Code Neon Mafia - 2024 release
• Project Code Vampire Hunter - 2025 release

B-cluster

• Re;quartz Raid - 2024 release

MediBang Inc.

• Cocktail Magic - Upcoming release

Kamitsubaki Studio

• KAMITSUBAKI CITY REGENERATE - Upcoming release

Dayu Zixun

• Voice Love on Air - Upcoming release

moesoft

• Devil Girl - Released

Shiravune

• AMANATSU ~Perfect Edition~ - May 17th release
• Destiny Star Girlfriend 2 - Q2 2024 release
• Real Hentai Situation! 2 - 2024 release
• NYO-NIN-JIMA -My New Life in Charge of a Tropical Island- - 2024 release
• Kara no Shoujo III - Announced
• Sacrifice Villains - Announced

Kagura Games

• Forsaken Quartet - May 18th release
• Yoru ga Kuru! -Square of the Moon- Remastered - 2024 release
• Angel Tear: Goddess Betrayed - Upcoming release

Aniplex

• Tsukihime -A piece of blue glass moon- - June 27th release
• Fate/stay night REMASTERED - 2024 release
• Hookah Haze - 2024 release
• Tanetsumi no Uta - 2024 release

Spike Chunsoft

• The Quintessential Quintuplets: Memories of a Quintessential Summer - Announced
• The Quintessential Quintuplets: Five Memories Spent With You - Announced

Love Lab

• Ever Maiden - 2024 release

DLsite

• Friendly lab - unlock(); - Upcoming release
• Club Suicide - Picked up

Idea Factory

• Cupid Parasite: Sweet and Spicy Darling - May 28th release
• 9 R.I.P. - Fall 2024 release
• Date A Live: Ren Dystopia - 2024 release

CRAFTWORK

• Geminism - English version announced

Harukaze

• Monkeys! - English release planned

Moonchime

• Haunted Obachestra Vol.1 Awaking - Upcoming release

Alice In Dissonance

• Fault Milestone 2 - Side Below - Upcoming release

G-mode

• Shinjuku Soumei - Demo Released, May 24th release

MiKandi Japan

• Libra of the Vampire Princess - All versions of the patches in testing

PRODUCTION PENCIL

• Paradise Cleaning! -Tutor X Hypnosis- - Upcoming release

072 Project

• Princess Paradise - 2024 release

F&C

• NTR with hypnosis application - Upcoming release

Eroge Japan

• Trap Yuri Garden - 2024 release

Tensei Games

• Unfaithful Wife: Ayano's "Netorare Report" - My gentle wife is fucking another man - - Q2 2024 release

GRAVITY GAME ARISE

• Tokyo Psychodemic - Demo released, May 30th release

Dark Nyaa

• Master & Succubi Hentai Lessons 2 - April release

MintLip

• Him, the Smile & Bloom - August 8th release

Cherry Kiss

• Cosplay Cumdump: Doing it Doujin Style - May 23rd release

This is the weekly translation status update thread. Use this thread to discuss translation news, issues, titles you're looking forward to, etc.
Note: This is simply a mirror from 4chan's weekly thread on the /jp/ board. All credit goes to the user VNTS there. Entries in Bold have had changes since last week
Fan Translations

• 12RIVEN -the Ψcliminal of integral- - 42% translated
  
• Aikano ~Yukizora no Triangle~ - Common Route translated
  
• Aiyoku No Eustia - In progress 100% TL patch leaked, project to continue, 100% Translated/edited/TLC
  
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Principal-tachi no Kyuujitsu~ - 100% translated and edited, 70.11% through QA
  
• Akatsuki no Goei ~Tsumibukaki Shuumatsuron~ - 100% translated, 41,122 lines edited (67.64%), 4,508 (7.42%) through QA
  
• Axanael - "Overwhelming majority" of the text translated, including the main story, some side content remains, in need of editing
  
• CHAOS;HEAD Love Chu Chu! - 70.54% translated, 22.70% edited
  
• CHAOS;CHILD Love Chu Chu!! - 100% translated, 55.30% edited
  
• Chicchakunai Mon - 100% translated and 39.5% edited
  
• Chusingura 46+1 - 36455/82770 (44.04%) lines translated, Kuranosuke route partial patch released
  
• Deatte 5-fun wa Ore no Mono! Jikan Teishi to Atropos - Common Route patch released
  
• Dragon Knight 4 - 60% translated, playtesting also ongoing
  
• Fate/Stay Night - Partial patch released with a new translation for Fate/UBW/9 days of HF
  
• Enrenchuu no Toshishita Kanojo ga Onna ni Ueta Osuzaru-domo no Gakuen de Koubi Aite ni Sareteta. - 10% translated
  
• Haruka na Sora - Sora and Yahiro routes translated, Kozue 75% translated, Sora 90% edited
  
• Honoo no Haramase Oppai Nyuu Doukyuusei ~Oppai mo Haramase! New Class Zen'in Harama-sensation!~ - Picked up, porting to Ren'Py
  
• If My Heart Had Wings: Snow Presents - 100% translated, 100% edited
  
• Jisatsu no Tame no 101 no Houhou - 17% translated
  
• Junketsu Megami-Sama - 2nd Alpha patch released, Astarotte route finishing up
  
• Kaseki no Uta - 100% translated, 4770/15389 (31%) edited
  
• Ken ga Kimi - 58% translated
  
• Koukan no Toriko-Tachi - Prologue, common, and Cuckold Play route translated, Swinging Route 35%, Yukari POV 40%
  
• Kud Wafter AA Version - 23,835/31,579 (75.5%) Lines translated, 18+ Version 19,240 / 33,113 (58.1) lines translated
  
• Kusarihime ~Euthanasia~ - Translation finished, fully edited
  
• Lover Able - 100% translated and edited, 9419/32258 lines approved (29.47%)
  
• Lucky Star ~Ryouou Gakuen Outousai~ - episode 1 patch released
  
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A - Ryouken Route After - 1942/3,494 (55.58%) lines translated
  
• Maji de Watashi ni Koishinasai! A Plus Disk - Preparing files
  
• Manakashi no Yuri wa Akaku Somaru - 66% translated
  
• Miagete Goran, Yozora no Hoshi o - 1 of 4 routes translation finished for the restoration patch, Houkiboshi Hika 2 of 4 H-scenes translated
  
• Mujou no Erasmus - The Erasmus two-faced stories - Released
  
• Nursery Rhyme - 100% translated and edited, text insertion 100% complete, testing ongoing
  
• Pure Pure - 100% translated, needs proofreading, partial patch released, all routes have been inserted
  
• Sakura no Uta - Chapter I 30% translated
  
• Sakura Wars 2 - Demo patch released, ADV, Battle, and "Long Day in the Theater" mode fully translated, disc 1 text inserted
  
• Sen no Hatou, Tsukisome no Kouki - Both original and fan disc 100% translated, in need of editing
  
• Shirotsume Yubiwa - 100% translated, 50% beta patch released
  
• Shizuku - 120/197 script files translated, 20/197 edited
  
• Taima Seiko Alice - 40% translated, 35% edited, 35% proofread, 1st partial patch out
  
• Tenshi no Inai 12-gatsu - 100% translated, Editing ongoing
  
• To Heart - 720/993 scripts translated, 200/993 edited
  
• Tokimeki Memorial 2 - Being translated
  
• Tokimeki Memorial Girls Side 4 - 55% translated
  
• Tsui no Sora Remake - 100% translated and edited, finalization progressing
  
• Umi kara Kuru Mono - 91/138 scripts translated
  
• Ushinawareta Mirai o Motomete - 22325/35416 (63.0%) lines translated
  
• Yosuga no Sora - Translation finished, editing and TLC ongoing, Total: TL 100% TLC 71% ED 55%, Common/Kazuha/Motoka/Sora routes fully edited
  

Official work
MangaGamer

• The Pillagers of Raillore - Out of Beta
  
• Ciconia - Phase 1 Released
  
• Hadaka Shitsuji fandisc - Picked up
  
• Rance 03 - 79% translated, 41% edited
  
• Rance X - 94% translated, 5% edited
  
• Luckydog1 - 100% translated and edited
  
• Funbag Fantasy 4 - 84% translated, 80% edited
  
• Eve of the 12th Month - 100% translated and 88% edited
  
• DEAD DAYS - 100% translated and edited
  
• Beat Valkyrie Ixseal - 88% translated and 81% edited
  
• Welcome to a Sexy, Open World - 98% translated and 90% edited
  

JAST

• Sumaga- Slow progress ongoing
  
• Katahane - Progress being made again
  
• Django - Not actively making progress
  
• Tokyo Hero Project - Translation finished, dealing with bugs
  
• Machine Child - Still being developed
  
• Yomegami: My Sweet Goddess - 100% translated
  
• Yamizome Liberator - Picked up
  
• Mojika: Truth Rears Its Ugly Head - Picked up
  
• Djibril - 100% translated, in editing
  
• Sisters: Last Day of Summer - June 3rd release
  
• Masquerade: Hell Academy - Through 1st QA pass, in 2nd QA pass
  

Age titles

• Kiminozo - Aiming for a Summer 2024 release

Sekai/Denpa

• Happy Saint Sheol - 100% edited, 40% QA, Demo released
  
• Harumade Kururu - Waiting on build
  
• Rewrite+ Harvest Festa - 100% translated, 40% edited, Steam page up, 2024 release
  
• Subete no Koi ni, Hanabata o. - 50% translated
  
• Sumire - Picked up
  
• Sanarara R - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build
  
• Glass - Picked up
  
• New Glass - Picked up
  
• Karakara 3 - 100% translated and edited, 70% engine work
  
• Yume to Iro de Dekiteiru - 100% translated, 35% edited
  
• Zutto Mae Kara Joshi Deshita - 100% translated, in editing
  
• Chiisana Kanojo no Serenade - 75% translated, 35% edited
  
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi - 10% translated
  
• Hoshizora e Kakaru Hashi AA - Announced
  
• Akaneiro ni Somaru Saka - 50% translated
  
• Hamidashi Creative - Announced
  
• Inupara - In Development
  
• Nekopara After La Vraie Familie - In Development
  
• Raspberry Cube - Announced
  
• NEKO-NIN exHeart SPIN - 100% translated and edited, waiting on build
  

VisualArts

• Summer Pockets Reflection Blue - 2024 release

Nekonyan

• Dracu Riot - Waiting on Build, Release date announcement on hold until after Angel Chaos
  
• Melty Moment - 80% translated
  
• Fureraba Complete edition - Vita exclusive content to be added to Fureraba a couple months after the fandisc release
  
• Floral Flowlove - 100% translated, 70% edited, enging port ongoing
  
• Kakenuke Seishun Sparking - 80% translated, 70% edited, QA started
  
• Love, Elections, & Chocolate -100% translated and edited, Engine port nearly finished, entering QA shortly
  
• Love Love Love, Burning in my Heart! - 100% translated and 74% edited
  
• Ready or Not: The Deadline is Coming! - 100% translated, 99% edited, waiting on build
  
• Mysteries of the Heart: The Psychic Detective Case Files - 100% translated and edited, engine work in progress
  
• Angel Chaos RE-BOOT! - Delayed after Steam rejection
  
• Secret Project 2 - 100% translated and edited, queued for Unity port
  
• Secret Project 3 - 100% translated and edited, 50% though QA
  

PQube

• SINce Memories: Off the Starry Sky - Announced
  
• Gensou Manège - Announced
  

Dualtail

• Venus Blood Ragnarok - Kickstarter starting in May

Frontwing

• Sharin no Kuni - Working to resolve remaining issues
  
• Lilja and Natsuka: Painting Lies - July 25th release
  
• Everlasting Flowers - August 29th release date
  
• Revue Starlight El Dorado - August 8th release
  

Fakku

• Two Beasts Or Not To Beast!! - 2.0 version, editing in progress
  
• Forbidden Ward - In Pre-Production
  

Saikey Studios (mix of official/unofficial)

• Yaricir Kanojo ~Seiso de Yasashii Kanojo wa Yaricir no Hime Deshita~ - Released
  
• The Reason For Your Smile - Steam page up, Happy and NTR routes translated
  
• Toaru Hahaoya no Ayamachi ~Yukari Hen~ - 50% translated
  

HyoukanOpera

• Knight Case Files - Trial released, upcoming release

MAGES. GAMES

• Corpse Party II - Darkness Distortion - 2024 release

Voltage Inc.

• Project Code Kaleido Tower - 2024 release
  
• Project Code Neon Mafia - 2024 release
  
• Project Code Vampire Hunter - 2025 release
  

Aksys

• Radiant Tale -Fanfare- - June 27th release
  
• Tales from Toyotoki: Arrival of the Witch - Summer release
  
• Virche Evermore -EpiC: Lycoris- - Fall release
  
• Despera Drops - 2025 release
  

B-cluster

• Re;quartz Raid- 2024 release

MediBang Inc.-

• Cocktail Magic - Upcoming release

Kamitsubaki Studio

• KAMITSUBAKI CITY REGENERATE - Upcoming release

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I am not The OOP, OOP is u/MushroomDense4108
AITA for putting in a claim to my late father’s death benefit
Originally posted to AITAH
Thanks to u/queenlegolas for suggesting this BoRU
TRIGGER WARNING: death of a parent, verbal abuse, attempted financial deception, family upheaval, ableism
Original Post Apr 27, 2024
Hi, I am looking for advice.
My father passed away on the 1st of March very unexpectedly and obviously this has caused a lot of heartache.
A few days ago I received a letter through the post from a policy through his work where it was stated that my father’s sister had put in a claim for the death benefit as she was next of kin at his work. I am next of kin legally and also would like to state for the record that me and my father had an excellent relationship. She never mentioned the policy to us or wrote down on her form that my father (did not) have children which it clearly asks and instead sent the form as if she was his only relative.
The company found out that I existed only because I am the informant on his death certificate and has asked if I wish to make a claim. I contacted my aunt about this and she has doubled down and said that my father would have wanted her and her alone to receive this large sum of money and has told me not to put in a claim.
I am putting in a claim regardless and told her this and it has caused a huge rift with her family. So much so that a cousin contacted me and said that my dad would be ashamed of me for putting in a claim and then went on to attack my autistic 24 year old brother, telling him that my father would have been ashamed of him because he was unable to carry his coffin at the funeral.
It just seems that this has gotten completely out of hand and I along with my brother are being attacked over money. Surely the company wouldn’t have contacted us if it were his wishes to give her 100%.
(Edit: I also forgot to mention that my aunt said she received an email from my dad’s workplace saying it was his wishes to gift this money to her and she had a signed document from him saying this, but when I asked her if I could see the document she sent me a blank template of wishes from the company website which had no writing on it, no expression of wishes and no signature from my dad which is confusing.
We also told her that we may not receive anything in the final decision which we are fine with, but it potentially could be split even between me, my younger brother and her. She wasn’t happy to even consider it going three ways either. And that is where the abuse began from that side of the family.)
I just don’t know and this has been keeping me up at night with stress. AITA?
UPDATE: I phoned the company this morning and they have NO RECORD of an expression of wishes that my father wrote. Only that she was next of kin at his workplace. So she not only lied that it was my dad’s wishes for her to have this money, but she also lied that she received an email from the company stating this. The woman on the phone said you are his daughter, you have a right to make a claim. And also to tell my brother to put his claim in which he will be doing now.
ADDITIONAL INFO FROM OOP
1.

Her daughter sent my brother vile voice notes telling him that my dad would be ashamed of him because he couldn’t carry the coffin due to his autism, that he is lazy and should get a job when he can’t work and that he is a thief. It has made my brother so distraught that he is refusing to put a claim in as he thinks my father hated him when this is not true.
My dad loved the bones off my brother. Those words never left his mouth. All lies.
My dad may not be here to protect him but I am, and I’ll always protect him.

2.

My brother received an apology tonight from this vile cousin. She said she couldn’t sleep, eat or go into her work as she has been sobbing about the disgusting things she said to him. Not that this makes a difference. What she said about that beautiful boy is unforgivable.
To target her own autistic cousin about things out of his control is insane.
My father took care and adored that boy from the moment he was born until he took his last breath. I have blocked this side of the family and will never speak to them again.
I will be contacting the company again on Monday and will ask if they have a copy of these supposed wishes. I have also filled out my claim and posted it today, so hopefully I have more answers soon.

RELEVANT COMMENTS
Forward-Wear7913

NTA
It’s just ridiculous that your aunt thinks she should get the money instead of her brother’s children.
Did your father have a will and an executor?
I would be worried that she’s also getting her hands on other property that doesn’t belong to her

OOP

I’m glad I’m not crazy for thinking the same thing.
No my father didn’t leave a will as he said to me a couple of months before he passed that everything would be going to me and my brother anyway. Obviously he didn’t plan for this chaos to follow. I’m currently in the process of becoming executor of the estate and all details are already with a solicitor. I am in Scotland, so the process takes a while.
However this death benefit falls outside the lines of his estate and is classed as a separate benefit altogether. I have been informed by one of his good friends and work mates that workmen at the site my dad was employed at were trying to find beneficiaries as they didn’t have a note of one which makes me think that she has been lying.
I have sent across an email to his employment asking for documentation of these supposed wishes he had filled out. Hopefully I hear more on Monday as probably won’t get a reply on a weekend.

Update Apr 29, 2024
I just thought I would post an update to the absolute hell that me and my brother have been put through in regards to my late father’s death benefit.
I phoned the company today and they have told me that my father had NO expression of wishes form. So not only did my aunt lie about being the beneficiary on his expression of wishes form, but she also just blatantly lied about even receiving an email with these details. They do not exist. She was only listed as a next of kin through his work, not as a beneficiary. She is not entitled to a thing as she claimed she was, and so the hurt and confusion both me and my brother have suffered was for nothing.
I don’t understand how our own family could put us through this, but people are right when they say snakes come out of the woodwork when a death happens in the family.
My brother was not going to put in a claim but now he is. I hope she feels the guilt ripping through her not only for this, but for the disgusting things her daughter said to my autistic brother.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
mustang19671967

Remember a lawyer is your friend if you need help I’m in a different country so our laws are different

OOP

The laws are different here in Scotland. I am executor of his estate but this death benefit falls outwith this, so it is up to the company to deal with claims and split benefits. A lawyer wouldn’t touch this, not that we need one now that we are aware of the truth.

IceBlue

If you’re the executor why couldn’t you get into his house when your aunt could? You should sue to get the items back or the value of the items if she sold them.

OOP

I could get into his house but I have my own house. I let her stay in his house as a kind gesture so she could stay the night in preparation for the funeral. And then when we went in a month later to sort some of his things, that’s when we realised what had been taken.
We did pull her up about it and she was crying down the phone saying she just wanted to keep things for her brother’s memory. So I left it at that, even though I knew it was wrong somehow I felt guilty. And now I realise she has been manipulative from the start.

~
Whose_my_daddy

I’m so sorry you have such disgusting family. Cut them off, even get restraining orders if necessary. Be sure the rest of the family knows what they did. Just curious: there’s no hint of foul play, is there?

OOP

I’ve cut ties with them all. The only decent one out of the bunch is her son/my older cousin who has been nothing but respectful and is also horrified at what she’s done. No definitely not, unfortunately my dad was ill with diabetes for a few years then got the flu while at work and it caused his heart to stop while in hospital receiving treatment. No foul play, just a horrible illness that stole him from us.

ADDITIONAL INFO ON THE AUNT

My aunt also went into my dad’s house as she was staying in there for the funeral before travelling home again. But in that short space of time, she had taken several money boxes he had used for spare change. We don’t even know how much were in them, but they were STACKED with change. She took his guitar, his amp, his kitchen knives, his iPad and one of his leather jackets that my brother wanted to keep.
We couldn’t even enter the house to look at anything never mind take things. It was only a month after the funeral that we were able to go in the house and see what had been taken without permission. She has been horrible since the start.
I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather, families can be ruthless.

&

We cancelled his bank card the day he died, however I know when we were visiting him in hospital she had his wallet and gave it to me. When he was still alive on a ventilator she told us we should take his card to use for fuel payments for going back and forth to hospital.
We obviously DID NOT do this especially since he was dying and could not consent. She gave me the wallet that day. Once I am executor, I will be seeing if she used his card in the days leading up to his passing and I will be filing a police report if there are any charges to the card in the period she had hold of it.

FINAL COMMENT FROM OOP ON THE SITUATION

They are already blocked. I don’t be speaking to them ever again.

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I'm genderfluid, and will be turning 21 in a few weeks.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
Although I haven't been properly diagnosed yet, I suspect that I have autism and ADHD, and have had signs of OCD since the age of eight.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
While I thought I had a good childhood growing up, it was incredibly abusive and toxic looking back. It was difficult to recognize the signs when I was younger because my family background does not fit the stereotype (I'm from a middle/upper-middle-class family and have always lived with both parents), and due to the gaslighting and on-and-off abuse from my parents.
Although neither of my parents were particularly religious (my maternal grandmother is a devout Catholic, however), I had some Christian influences growing up. However, thanks to my parents not pushing religion onto me, I consider myself non-religious. I don't think that an individual needs faith, religion or spirituality to be a good person, and I prefer to live by my personal values.
Back to my parents: my mother, who was the main caregiver in my life, has been incredibly controlling, especially since I was around seven years old, when the abuse escalated. My father, while he hasn't been very present in my life, acted as a bystander who enabled the abuse or carried out abuse of his own.
Since my early adolescence, I have been fighting back against my parents' abuse, and luckily the physical abuse stopped, but the emotional abuse and gaslighting continues to this day. I'm currently saving up money so that I can leave my family.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I'm currently an education student at university, and will be graduating next year in the fall. While a part of me is interested in teaching history, which I have always enjoyed, and learn about how to offer the emotional support to my future students that I didn't have when I was younger, I do believe that I am capable of other career fields that either pay more, are of higher status, or I simply enjoy more. I have always wanted to pursue law, and I think I would enjoy becoming an interpreter or art historian as well. Outside of academia, I am interested in acting, modeling and singing, so I wouldn't mind pursuing either of those as a future career.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
As much as I love being around the few people I genuinely care about, I always need some alone time each day because that's how I recharge - I find constant human interaction exhausting. An entire weekend by myself doing activities that I enjoy would be ideal.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I definitely prefer indoor activities, and I'm not a big fan of sports or outdoor activities in general.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I am curious, but only about my interests, and my interests are limited and specific (ex) Greek mythology and World War II history). I do have more ideas that I can execute, whether it's random philosophical thoughts or about the content that I create on social media (I have a list for those ideas on my Notes app).
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
I love taking on leadership positions, and have been told that I am a good leader. I am the most comfortable knowing that I'm in control. I try to take into everyone's account, but because most people aren't that decisive, especially in group settings, I trust myself to make the big decisions.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I don't consider myself to be the most coordinated. I'm usually in my head to the point where I lose sense of my physical surroundings. I'm also very clumsy and not the most athletic. However, I do enjoy doing arts and crafts (ex) DIY, jewelry-making, etc.)
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I love art, and I consider myself artistic. When it comes to the arts, I'm a jack of all trades, and create aesthetics, covers, YouTube videos, etc. I'm hoping to diversify my creations, such as drawing or playing instruments. I also enjoy looking at paintings and sculpture in museums.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I tend to dwell in the past or future, leading to either replaying the few positive events, regretting past mistakes, or planning the future.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
When others request my help on something, I immediately drop whatever I'm doing to help them. I always try to help others to the best of my ability - I was simply born that way.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
I do value logical consistency, and get easily annoyed by others' lack of consistency. However, I do believe that existing information should be adjusted if new information that contradicts it is introduced.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
Efficiency and productivity are things that I greatly value. I unfortunately am stuck in the mindset where I consider it wasteful if I don't spend every minute doing something productive. I prefer to do all of my tasks first before relaxing. Even when I'm relaxing, I'm always doing something (ex) reading, posting for social media, recording, etc.)
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I have to admit that I do tend to control others, and get them to agree with me or do things my way, as a result of my hubris. As I grew older, I learned to catch myself when I attempt to control others.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
The enjoy intellectual hobbies, such as reading (I usually read classics, my favorite being Les Misérables, or YA fantasy, such as the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson series), learning foreign languages, or learning about social issues. I also enjoy creative hobbies, such as art (as I mentioned above) or listening to music. In general, I prefer solitary hobbies that allow me to express myself or escape into my inner world.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
For me, the ideal classroom is full of discussion. I enjoy sharing my opinions and hearing others' perspectives to better form my ideas. On the other hand, the worst kind of classroom is an old-fashioned one where the teacher lectures and I only take notes without having a chance to actually participate in the lesson. It's even worse when the teacher doesn't use slides or any other visual aids.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I am pretty good at strategizing. Once I am confronted with a task, I immediately create a mental to-do list, but later complete them according to my energy level that day.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
As I mentioned in one of the earlier questions, I'm still not 100% sure what I want to do professionally. Since I'm getting my teaching degree, I'll try teaching just to see if I enjoy it, and if I don't, I'll be happy to try a different field.
My lifelong goal is to free myself from my family and become the person I was meant to be before the abuse. I'm currently in the process of saving money to buy myself a home. I am also planning on doing therapy soon, not only to heal myself but also in case I decide to adopt/foster children in the future. In fact, the main reason why I decided to major in education was to not repeat the same mistakes that my parents made, and to give my future children, and the next generation as a whole, the home and family they deserve.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
My worst fear is either personal failure (hence why I always try to stay on top of everything when it comes to uni/jobs to the point where others see me as neurotic) or a dystopia where human rights are ignored, which has been unfortunately been coming true for the past few years where I live (with the anti-LGBT agenda by the right and the rise of antisemitism).
I get extremely uncomfortable when others misunderstand me/my personality or intrude upon my boundaries. I also hate being considered a bad person (not necessarily "unpleasant," but rather "morally wrong") or being looked down upon/being seen as useless.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
The "highs" in my life would be not having to worry about anything (ex) school/jobs, relationships, etc.) because everything goes my way and I have the freedom to do whatever. I unfortunately haven't had too many "highs" in life yet.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
The lowest point in my life was two years ago, when I first came out as LGBT to my unsupportive parents, and I was stuck in a toxic friendship at the same time.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I am more attached to my inner world than I am to reality. I am almost always daydreaming, and often lose awareness of my physical surroundings while doing so.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
My mind would be busy, as my thought process would jump from one thing to another.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I tend to take some time before making important decisions. It generally depends on whether I change my mind afterwards, but the more important the specific decision is, the more I'm likely to stick with it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
While I feel emotions intensely for short periods of time, I prefer to take the time to process my emotions, ideally by thinking through things in my head, rather than talking it out with my friends or family. However, I don't place much value in emotions, because I think they cloud an individual's ability to make wise judgments. Instead, I place more value on logic and core values.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
While I sometimes agree with others just to appease them on mundane subjects (ex) a friend talking to me about a fictional character that they might like, even if I don't), more often than not I tend to stick with my own judgment. For example, if I catch someone disrespecting me or saying stuff that is either factually incorrect or could be considered offensive, I will correct them regardless of who they are.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I have never been one to break the rules, especially at school. In fact, I always double-check to make sure that I am following the rules.
However, I do believe that it is necessary to break the rules if the rules are wrong. If I lived during the Jim Crow laws or Apartheid era, I would have been breaking as many racist, unfair laws as I could.
I believe that authority is inherently flawed, hence why there have been movements to overthrow them (just think about the French Revolution). Because authority is no more perfect than any other human, they could be wrong, and they should be replaced when necessary. I also believe that blind obedience to authority is dangerous (ex) the citizens supporting Nazi Germany). It's important for us to stay true to our values and criticise things.

• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I'm genderfluid, and will be turning 21 in a few weeks.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
Although I haven't been properly diagnosed yet, I suspect that I have autism and ADHD, and have had signs of OCD since the age of eight.
• Describe your upbringing. Did it have any kind of religious or structured influence? How did you respond to it?
While I thought I had a good childhood growing up, it was incredibly abusive and toxic looking back. It was difficult to recognize the signs when I was younger because my family background does not fit the stereotype (I'm from a middle/upper-middle-class family and have always lived with both parents), and due to the gaslighting and on-and-off abuse from my parents.
Although neither of my parents were particularly religious (my maternal grandmother is a devout Catholic, however), I had some Christian influences growing up. However, thanks to my parents not pushing religion onto me, I consider myself non-religious. I don't think that an individual needs faith, religion or spirituality to be a good person, and I prefer to live by my personal values.
Back to my parents: my mother, who was the main caregiver in my life, has been incredibly controlling, especially since I was around seven years old, when the abuse escalated. My father, while he hasn't been very present in my life, acted as a bystander who enabled the abuse or carried out abuse of his own.
Since my early adolescence, I have been fighting back against my parents' abuse, and luckily the physical abuse stopped, but the emotional abuse and gaslighting continues to this day. I'm currently saving up money so that I can leave my family.
• What do you do as a job or as a career (if you have one)? Do you like it? Why or why not?
I'm currently an education student at university, and will be graduating next year in the fall. While a part of me is interested in teaching history, which I have always enjoyed, and learn about how to offer the emotional support to my future students that I didn't have when I was younger, I do believe that I am capable of other career fields that either pay more, are of higher status, or I simply enjoy more. I have always wanted to pursue law, and I think I would enjoy becoming an interpreter or art historian as well. Outside of academia, I am interested in acting, modeling and singing, so I wouldn't mind pursuing either of those as a future career.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
As much as I love being around the few people I genuinely care about, I always need some alone time each day because that's how I recharge - I find constant human interaction exhausting. An entire weekend by myself doing activities that I enjoy would be ideal.
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I definitely prefer indoor activities, and I'm not a big fan of sports or outdoor activities in general.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
I am curious, but only about my interests, and my interests are limited and specific (ex) Greek mythology and World War II history). I do have more ideas that I can execute, whether it's random philosophical thoughts or about the content that I create on social media (I have a list for those ideas on my Notes app).
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
I love taking on leadership positions, and have been told that I am a good leader. I am the most comfortable knowing that I'm in control. I try to take into everyone's account, but because most people aren't that decisive, especially in group settings, I trust myself to make the big decisions.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
I don't consider myself to be the most coordinated. I'm usually in my head to the point where I lose sense of my physical surroundings. I'm also very clumsy and not the most athletic. However, I do enjoy doing arts and crafts (ex) DIY, jewelry-making, etc.)
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forums of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
I love art, and I consider myself artistic. When it comes to the arts, I'm a jack of all trades, and create aesthetics, covers, YouTube videos, etc. I'm hoping to diversify my creations, such as drawing or playing instruments. I also enjoy looking at paintings and sculpture in museums.
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
I tend to dwell in the past or future, leading to either replaying the few positive events, regretting past mistakes, or planning the future.
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
When others request my help on something, I immediately drop whatever I'm doing to help them. I always try to help others to the best of my ability - I was simply born that way.
• Do you need logical consistency in your life?
I do value logical consistency, and get easily annoyed by others' lack of consistency. However, I do believe that existing information should be adjusted if new information that contradicts it is introduced.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
Efficiency and productivity are things that I greatly value. I unfortunately am stuck in the mindset where I consider it wasteful if I don't spend every minute doing something productive. I prefer to do all of my tasks first before relaxing. Even when I'm relaxing, I'm always doing something (ex) reading, posting for social media, recording, etc.)
• Do you control others, even if indirectly? How and why do you do that?
I have to admit that I do tend to control others, and get them to agree with me or do things my way, as a result of my hubris. As I grew older, I learned to catch myself when I attempt to control others.
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
The enjoy intellectual hobbies, such as reading (I usually read classics, my favorite being Les Misérables, or YA fantasy, such as the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson series), learning foreign languages, or learning about social issues. I also enjoy creative hobbies, such as art (as I mentioned above) or listening to music. In general, I prefer solitary hobbies that allow me to express myself or escape into my inner world.
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
For me, the ideal classroom is full of discussion. I enjoy sharing my opinions and hearing others' perspectives to better form my ideas. On the other hand, the worst kind of classroom is an old-fashioned one where the teacher lectures and I only take notes without having a chance to actually participate in the lesson. It's even worse when the teacher doesn't use slides or any other visual aids.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I am pretty good at strategizing. Once I am confronted with a task, I immediately create a mental to-do list, but later complete them according to my energy level that day.
• What are your aspirations in life, professionally and personally?
As I mentioned in one of the earlier questions, I'm still not 100% sure what I want to do professionally. Since I'm getting my teaching degree, I'll try teaching just to see if I enjoy it, and if I don't, I'll be happy to try a different field.
My lifelong goal is to free myself from my family and become the person I was meant to be before the abuse. I'm currently in the process of saving money to buy myself a home. I am also planning on doing therapy soon, not only to heal myself but also in case I decide to adopt/foster children in the future. In fact, the main reason why I decided to major in education was to not repeat the same mistakes that my parents made, and to give my future children, and the next generation as a whole, the home and family they deserve.
• What are your fears? What makes you uncomfortable? What do you hate? Why?
My worst fear is either personal failure (hence why I always try to stay on top of everything when it comes to uni/jobs to the point where others see me as neurotic) or a dystopia where human rights are ignored, which has been unfortunately been coming true for the past few years where I live (with the anti-LGBT agenda by the right and the rise of antisemitism).
I get extremely uncomfortable when others misunderstand me/my personality or intrude upon my boundaries. I also hate being considered a bad person (not necessarily "unpleasant," but rather "morally wrong") or being looked down upon/being seen as useless.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
The "highs" in my life would be not having to worry about anything (ex) school/jobs, relationships, etc.) because everything goes my way and I have the freedom to do whatever. I unfortunately haven't had too many "highs" in life yet.
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
The lowest point in my life was two years ago, when I first came out as LGBT to my unsupportive parents, and I was stuck in a toxic friendship at the same time.
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I am more attached to my inner world than I am to reality. I am almost always daydreaming, and often lose awareness of my physical surroundings while doing so.
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
My mind would be busy, as my thought process would jump from one thing to another.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I tend to take some time before making important decisions. It generally depends on whether I change my mind afterwards, but the more important the specific decision is, the more I'm likely to stick with it.
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
While I feel emotions intensely for short periods of time, I prefer to take the time to process my emotions, ideally by thinking through things in my head, rather than talking it out with my friends or family. However, I don't place much value in emotions, because I think they cloud an individual's ability to make wise judgments. Instead, I place more value on logic and core values.
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
While I sometimes agree with others just to appease them on mundane subjects (ex) a friend talking to me about a fictional character that they might like, even if I don't), more often than not I tend to stick with my own judgment. For example, if I catch someone disrespecting me or saying stuff that is either factually incorrect or could be considered offensive, I will correct them regardless of who they are.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
I have never been one to break the rules, especially at school. In fact, I always double-check to make sure that I am following the rules.
However, I do believe that it is necessary to break the rules if the rules are wrong. If I lived during the Jim Crow laws or Apartheid era, I would have been breaking as many racist, unfair laws as I could.
I believe that authority is inherently flawed, hence why there have been movements to overthrow them (just think about the French Revolution). Because authority is no more perfect than any other human, they could be wrong, and they should be replaced when necessary. I also believe that blind obedience to authority is dangerous (ex) the citizens supporting Nazi Germany). It's important for us to stay true to our values and criticise things.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.

I had been hiking down the Appalachian Trail for over two weeks without issue on the day when the nightmare began. My friend, X, was by my side the entire time. It was, quite honestly, comforting to have someone who stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall with me, especially during the long, dark nights when the howling of coyotes drew near. Black bears, too, were a constant presence in these dark mountains. As we got farther from towns and civilization, more ancient predators than human beings took over the land, stalking the night like creeping shadows.
For this trip, we both had bought as few supplies as possible. Included in our packs were MREs, two sleeping bags, some tarps and hammocks, some light clothing, and two pistols with a few boxes of ammo. We didn’t want to be too weighed down that we wouldn’t be able to move fast, after all. We would source water from the streams, waterfalls and lakes along the way and filter it using Lifestraws.
As the spring breeze blew past us, cooling the sweat on my face, I noticed the trail ahead of us weaving its way through thick swampland. The buzzing of flies and mosquitoes increased with every step. The green, fetid waters of the swamp bubbled constantly, as if it were whispering secrets to us.
“Ah, shit,” X said, glancing down the hill with his dark, serious eyes. His tanned skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Another swamp. I hate swamps. You know there’s going to be a million mosquitoes and flies down there.” I pulled out the map, squinting down at it. I ran my finger down the trail, seeing the mountains and valleys we had already passed.
“The trail shouldn’t be going through any swamps,” I said. “They’re supposed to be marked. There’s no ponds or anything around here.” And yet there very clearly was. Either we were in a different spot than I thought we were, or the map was outdated. The trail also grew thinner as we descended. The sharp branches of the bushes stuck out like greedy hands, grabbing at our backpacks and clothes as we pressed forward.
“Well, whatever,” X said gruffly, plowing ahead. Twigs cracked under his massive bulk. The thin branches hanging across the path snapped as he plowed forward. I let him go first, since he was significantly bigger than myself. It was like following in the path of a bull.
“The faster we move, the faster we’ll be through it. We don’t want to camp anywhere around here when it gets dark,” X continued, looking grim. “We’ll be eaten alive by bugs by sunrise. We need to make it to the other side of these boglands before we can stop for the night.”
“Yeah, and I could use some more water,” I said, shaking my mostly empty canteen. “I wouldn’t drink this shit no matter what we did to it. It probably has brain-eating parasites crawling in it.” I checked my watch, realizing that dusk was only a half hour away. We would have to move fast indeed, especially as we didn’t know the size of the swamp. I was not enthusiastic about hiking in the dark with the many steep trails and sharp rocks that covered the surrounding land. A single misstep could lead to a very long, bone-shattering fall.
To my increasing dismay, I realized that the trail we were on no longer had the characteristic white markings of the Appalachian Trail. I kept checking the trees for the past fifteen minutes, and I definitely hadn’t seen a single one. I couldn’t remember the last time we had passed one, but I had a creeping suspicion it had been at least a couple hours ago.
“I think we have a problem, man,” I whispered. “I don’t know how it possibly could have happened, but I think we’re on the wrong trail.”
“There’s not supposed to be any other trails around here,” X argued. “Check the map.”
“Then where’s the white blazes? There’s not supposed to be any boglands around here, either, yet we’re walking through the middle of one,” I said. He shook his head.
“Listen, Ben, there’s not going to be markers on the entire Appalachian Trail,” he said. “Just trust me. We’re on the right path. Sometimes forests change. Swamps take over spots where forests used to lay. Hell, the Sahara Desert has been expanding for thousands of years, just eating the forests and plains all around it. There used to be lions and savannah in Morocco, and now it’s all dead and dry.”
I felt doubtful, but I continued forwards, following closely behind X. Neither one of us had ever done the full Appalachian Trail, after all. I hoped he was right. I was not enthusiastic about backtracking two or three hours if he wasn’t.
I thought back closely on our travels during the last few hours, wondering where we could have gone wrong. The trail had been rather overgrown and rocky on the peak of the last mountain. There had been a beautiful view spanning hundreds of miles, looking far off into state forests and winding roads. I remembered seeing the white marker near the top, but after we had started descending, it disappeared. That must have been where we went wrong, if we did, indeed, go off-course. But I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t tell X about my suspicions.
We finished descending a steep, rocky trail into a valley where the boglands really started. The trees ended in a massive semi-circle around the open swamp. Thick peat covered the entire surface of it like rotted, grayish-brown skin. I saw water snakes quietly disappearing into the stagnant water, leaving behind slowly expanding ripples.
“This is pretty cool,” I said, stopping for a moment at the bottom of the trail to admire the boglands. Our trail continued directly through the center of it, no more than a raised patch of black earth surrounded by green swampy water. I could hear the many insects chirping and flying before we even took a step forward. Though the spring air felt warm and I was covered in sweat, I still reached into my bag, taking out a windbreaker that would cover up my arms and neck to help with the bugs. X did the same.
“Let’s move fast,” he said, giving me a knowing look. He was a much faster hiker than myself. He seemed like a machine sometimes, tireless and single-minded. I had seen him hike over twenty miles in a single day without looking too bent out of shape. I gave him a faint half-smile, picking up my pace.
“You know what they used to say about the boglands?” I asked X. He shook his head.
“I don’t read books,” he said. “If I have time to sit down and read, then it means I have time to go out and do something actually fun. But I’m sure you know all about it.” I gave a short bark of laughter at his off-handed insult. It sounded far too loud echoing back to us through the creepy swamp. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the mountains now. Soon, we would be plunged into darkness.
“Well, in ancient times, people thought the boglands a place where the walls of reality were thin, where the gods would come through. They used to bring their victims out to swamps during rituals, then they would slice their throats or strangle them and dump their bodies into the bogs as an offering to the gods. They also said that strange, shape-shifting creatures would appear, sometimes to deceive travelers, other times to help them,” I said. “But as for human sacrifices, the bogs preserve bodies like nothing else, except maybe tar pits. Archaeologists keep finding victims with slashed throats or shattered skulls buried underneath the peat.”
X was silent for a long moment as we continued walking along the raised patch of earth that formed the trail. We got farther and farther from the forests, until the swamp seemed like a fetid ocean, spanning out to the horizon in every direction.
“Do you think they used to do that kind of stuff around here?” X asked.
“Used to?” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’m sure some psychopaths still do. This is a good place to dump a body, after all. Who the hell wants to trek through the muck and the snakes and mosquitoes out here looking for corpses?”
“The FBI and the cops will do it,” he said, “if they think there’s something to find.” I was about to respond when an ear-splitting shriek echoed out all around us. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. X’s tan skin seemed to go pale as he spun, glancing in every direction.
“What the fuck is that?!” he screamed over the deafening wailing. I didn’t believe in cryptids, but my anxious mind immediately offered up an image of a banshee, a woman with chalk-white skin and black eyes whose shrieking jaw unhinged like a snake’s.
“I’m turning around!” I yelled, pointing back for emphasis. “Dude, fuck this! We need to get out of this swamp!” But X was no longer listening. He was looking past me, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He started backpedaling and nearly fell into the swamp. Windmilling his arms crazily, he turned and sprinted away without a word.
I was afraid to look back. The screaming was getting louder by the second, shaking the air all around me in deafening, crashing waves of sound. I felt like my head would explode if it got any worse. Instinctively, I took off after X, but I glanced back for a single moment before I did. Something loomed there from a nightmare, standing as tall as the trees. It moved through the swamp like a snake, its body slithering through the stagnant green waters towards us. When it met my eyes, the screaming stopped. The abrupt silence seemed deafening. I could hear the fervent pounding of my heart in my ears.
The creature’s skin looked honeycombed and rough, almost like a wasp’s nest. The thousands of tiny holes covering its body constantly opened and closed like hungry mouths. Its arms were long tentacles ending in sharp points of bone in the shape of scythes. The tentacles undulated like serpents. Its legs, too, were no more than four tentacles that alternatively slithered and stepped forward.
Its flesh was the color of peat, a sickly grayish-brown, and the smell that emanated from it was rancid and stagnant, the essence of all boglands and swamps. I nearly gagged as I ran. The putrefying stench seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Ahead of me, X was fumbling in his backpack as he ran, trying to grab his pistol. I knew he had a Glock 21 in that bag, and I had my Sig Sauer in mine. I cursed myself for not keeping it holstered on my body, but I had never had to use it before and hadn’t seriously thought I would need it for this trip. He glanced back at me, his eyes widening in horror.
“It’s right behind you!” he yelled. “Get down!” He dropped his backpack, revealing the sleek, black pistol clenched tightly in his hand. I barely had time to comprehend his words when an immense pressure and numbness radiated through my back. My head snapped backwards as a meaty thud resonated all around me. I went flying forward, feeling as if I had been struck by a car. As I flew through the air, the pain in my back exploded in burning pulses. I felt the deep slice open up from the sharp blade of bone that had slashed me like a knife. I felt trickles of blood pour from the open wound, making my stained shirt cling to my body.
I landed hard on the raised black earth of the trail, a bone-jarring impact that knocked the air out of me. At that same moment, X opened fire, pressing the trigger over and over, emptying the magazine as fast as he could. Something splashed over me, going in my eyes and mouth and nose. I crawled forward, moaning, my head spinning. I wiped my forehead, seeing spatters of green blood squirming with dark, maggot-like creatures covering my arms and face. It clung to my fingers, thick and rancid. I felt stinging sensations as the tiny worms bit me over and over. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine from the gunshots.
X was running towards me now. I continued to crawl towards him, shell-shocked and whimpering, trying to wipe the eldritch blood off my skin. With a muscular arm, he reached down and pulled me up.
“Where’d it go?” I mumbled, stumbling forward on unsteady feet. X put an arm around my shoulders and helped support me.
“It slunk back into the swamp,” he said. “Jesus, you’re bleeding really bad, buddy. We’re going to need to take care of that as soon as we get away from this hellhole.” I felt the deep slices from the creature’s blade-like hands across my back. The fabric of my shirt clung tightly to the skin as fresh blood soaked it.
“This isn’t the trail, X,” I gasped. “We went the wrong way. We need to go back.” He nodded grimly.
“We’re heading back right now. I know it’s the wrong trail now, it definitely is, but it’s dark. The trails back up the mountains are steep and dangerous, and we’ve already been hiking all day. How much longer can we really go?” he asked. In reality, I had a feeling X could go for quite a bit longer. I was the weak link in the chain, and we both knew it.
X took out a small, LED flashlight from his backpack, shining it ahead of us on the dark path. Across the center of the black earth, there was an obstruction, something that hadn’t been there when we passed this way originally.
“Shit! Is that a person?” X said, slowing down. He focused the light on it. As my eyes adjusted, I gave a gasp of horror as I saw a rough sacrificial table looming there, waiting with a ready victim.
Laying on the bare wooden planks in the center of the trail was an elderly man wearing the garb of a hunter. He was gagged, a bloody rag shoved deep into his mouth. I felt a sense of revulsion and terror as I realized his hands and feet were nailed to the planks, as if he were being crucified laying down. His eyes rolled wildly, white and insane, like a horse with a broken leg. When he saw us approaching, he tried to say something through the gag, pulling hard against the nails that bit so viciously into his flesh. Fresh rivers of blood spurted from his wounds.
I had my pistol in my hands. X had taken a fresh magazine out by now, throwing the empty one back in his backpack. Trembling, he went first, his shaking hand moving the flashlight around wildly. Its bright rays bounced off the dead, half-rotted trees that grew out of the boglands, the clouds of mosquitoes and moths that circled us constantly.
“Oh my God... he's like the victim of a serial killer or something,” he whispered, running a trembling hand over his face. “It looks like someone has set that poor guy up to have his heart cut out, like some sort of Aztec ritual.” He glanced worriedly over at me. We had both stopped cold in our tracks, looking around for any sign of danger, but we only saw the old man writhing on his rough table of torture.
“We have to keep going forward,” I whispered. “That thing is behind us. I don’t think it’s dead. I’m not sure it can even die.”
“But what’s ahead of us?” he asked grimly. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Far off down the trail, I saw small pinpoints of flickering light. They drew closer. We raised our pistols, waiting for the new arrivals to show themselves.
Dozens of people dressed in black, silky robes holding lamps slowly ambled their way towards us. They had their heads bowed, like monks on a holy pilgrimage. They drew close to the sacrifice. The one in the lead held a long, curving dagger whose blade looked like it was made of some kind of red volcanic rock. Its strange silver handle glittered in his pale, thin hand. At the end, I saw it was sculpted into the shape of a human heart.
“Stop right there!” X screamed, stepping forward. “Don’t come any closer! We are armed, I’m warning you.” The people in the black robes didn’t appear to hear or care in the slightest. They continued slowly following their leader with the strange dagger, almost floating forward in a nonchalant manner. Their leader began chanting in some strange, ancient language. It reminded me of Tibetan or Sanskrit in a way, like the chanting of some Vajrayana monk high up in the Himalayas. But it had a sinister, hissing quality to the words. Something ancient and powerful resonated in every syllable.
I raised the pistol, firing blankly into the dark, cloudless sky above. The smell of gunsmoke and fetid rot hung thick in the air. The leader of the group looked at me with his large, glassy eyes. His face looked sunken and pale, almost like a starving child. He had shaved all of the hair on his head, even his eyebrows. His lips were extremely thin and bloodless in his chalk-white face.
For a long moment, we stood staring at each other, my pistol aimed at his chest. X also had his pistol raised, aimed at one of those standing behind him. But the robed man didn’t speak. He gave me a faint grin.
“Let the old man go,” I commanded, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. The swamp quickly swallowed up my words, until only the buzzing of mosquitoes remained.
“I am sorry, my son, but I cannot do that,” the leader said in a voice as cold as endless space. “If we do not feed Mowdoroth, it will never sleep. The swamps will continue to expand, eating more and more of the surrounding forests and towns, and Mowdoroth, driven insane by hunger, will take far more victims in the process.
“This job has been passed down to us from generation to generation, from big hand to small, for over four centuries. Only twice has Mowdoroth not been fed on the New Moon, and each time, entire settlements full of people were wiped off the face of the Earth as if they had never existed. On one, they just had time to carve the word ‘CROATAN’ before they were taken.
“Mowdoroth looks for the place where the nightmares grow. It breaks open the chest and finds the place where the silent screams start, deep down at the base of the heart. All of the nightmares are planted there, like tiny seeds scattered during childhood. Those that fell on good soil in that abyss produced a great crop, yielding a hundredfold, sixtyfold, or thirtyfold. If you do not allow us to complete our holy mission, then you do it: cut open the man's chest and remove his beating heart. As it beats, squeeze it as hard as you can, and let all the blood drain onto the top of your head. Hold the heart above your head and close your eyes until the god appears and takes it.” The cult leader finished, looking at us with sparkling eyes, as if he had said something profound.
“This shit is just insane drivel,” X whispered in a voice as low as possible. “I say we open fire and save the old man now. Fuck these cultists.” I nodded grimly in agreement.
“You need to all turn around and leave immediately,” X yelled, stepping forward. “I will give you three seconds to turn around and get the hell out of my sight. Three…” At first, the cultists stood as still as statues, simply staring. Finally, the leader sighed and turned away. He shook his head, reminding me of a disappointed parent.
“I tried to warn you,” he said in his thin, quavering voice. “The time has come to give the offering. You must cut out this man’s heart and raise it to Mowdoroth, so he can get the seeds of nightmares freshly sown. The choice is yours now, as you have demanded this power with violence. You can leave this man here to be eaten by Mowdoroth, or free him and, in exchange, guarantee the deaths of hundreds of other people.”
With those last words, the black-robed figures continued down the curve of the trail. Within seconds, they had disappeared behind dead, half-rotted trees that still dotted the edges of the boglands. X and I ran forward toward the struggling old man. X reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He cut off the old man’s gag, pulling the spit-soaked chunk of filthy cloth out of his mouth. The old man spat and licked his dry lips.
“Get me out of here, please,” he whispered, his eyes rolling wildly. “Those cult members are all batshit insane. And there’s something not right in these swamps. I caught glimpses of something while I was waiting. There’s something in the water…”
“What’s your name, bud?” X said calmingly, looking at the old man’s hands and feet to try to decide how to best get the nails out without causing more damage.
“Winchester,” he said in a coarse voice. It sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in days. While X looked at his hands with the LED flashlight, I reached into my pack for the small canteen of filtered water I still had. I started pouring it into Winchester’s mouth. He gulped greedily, his throat working hard to drink down the rest of it.
“I got it!” X said, taking a flat stone he had found on the ground. “I’m going to try to pound these nails out from the bottom.”
“Oh, please, no,” Winchester said, his wrinkled face turning pale. X shook his head.
“We need to get you out of here,” he said. “It’s going to hurt, bud. But we don’t have any tools here. The nails are large, almost like railroad spikes, and once we get the top part, the bottom should slide out easily since it’s a lot narrower.” As he grabbed the rock to begin his work, a bone-chilling wailing started up again from the swamps. It was the scream of Mowdoroth, that abomination with the skin of a wasp’s nest.
“Cover us!” X yelled panickedly as he continued his grisly work. Winchester screamed in pain when X first struck the nail on his right hand. It shot up a fraction of an inch, fresh blood pooling all around it and dripping through the bare planks.
I turned, but the banshee wail seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The swamp bubbled faster and faster all around us, as if thousands of corpses were coming back to life. I heard Winchester scream again, then the dull thud of another nail hitting the earth.
A face peeked out of the swamp, only twenty feet away. Its eyes were green, the color of a putrefying wound. Its lipless mouth opened wide, showing a spongy black mass of skin with concentric circles of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. It reminded me of the mouth of a lamprey.
I opened fire, shooting wildly at the face, aiming at the body hidden under the dark surface of the swamp. Luminescent drops of green blood exploded from a bullet hole in its upper right shoulder, floating across the surface of the water like radioactive waste.
Its screaming cut off instantly. All I could hear was the pounding of the rock behind me and Winchester’s pained, horrified pleas for mercy.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” he pleaded.
“Shut the fuck up, Winchester!” I whispered. “It’s here with us now.” With considerable effort, he did, only moaning and violently jerking his head now as the waves of pain ripped through him.
“I got it!” X said suddenly. A feeling of elation filled my heart.
“Let’s go then!” I yelled, turning to help the old man up. I heard something massive rise up behind us. It mixed with the sound of dripping water and babbling waves that arose from the disturbance.
Winchester was weak, stumbling up to his feet and nearly falling over immediately. Staggering, he took off down the trail with no shoes, but he immediately gave a curse of pain and tripped. X and I started running, and at that moment, I realized the flaw in our plan. We wouldn’t be able to get Winchester out of the swamp without carrying him, due to the extensive injuries to his feet. And I knew we didn’t have time.
Mowdoroth’s body stood as tall as the trees as it looked down at the three of us with its strange, infected eyes. Its tentacles undulated faster and faster, seeming to whip around its body until they flew out towards us.
“Run!” I screamed. X and I sprinted behind a cluster of dead trees hugging the path. The blade-like hand of Mowdoroth chopped them in a half, raining wood splinters down on our heads.
Winchester continued trying to crawl forward. Mowdoroth slithered behind him. Winchester looked up as a tentacle started coming down in his direction. He gave a short, panicked scream as the blade smashed through his back legs, chopping both of them off at the knees. The ground shook with the force of it. The stumps began spurting seemingly endless amounts of blood. Winchester pleaded and made incomprehensible gurgling sounds as he bled out. Mowdoroth ended Winchester’s cries when it wrapped its tentacle around Winchester’s torso. It slithered up into Winchester’s open mouth.
X and I shot as fast as we could while running forward in the dark, trying to hold a flashlight and a pistol. Most of my shots missed Mowdoroth, but with a sense of satisfaction and pride, I saw a few burst through its enormous body. Streams of radioactive green blood ran down its torso now. As its serpentine legs pumped furiously, it gained speed, coming behind us like a runaway train. I could feel the ground shaking with every thud of its tentacled feet.
A few hundred feet ahead of us, I caught a glimpse of the cultists. They were hurrying away from the area, not running but moving much faster than they had come in. Nearly out of breath already and exhausted from hiking all day, I pointed forward.
“Look!” I screamed. X saw them, his eyes widening. We sprinted in a blind panic, as fast as we could towards the stragglers in the black robes. Without warning, X raised his pistol and fired, aiming at the nearest of them.
The figure in the back of the pack fell forward without making a sound. He continued trying to crawl forward weakly for a few moments before he lost energy and lay still, no more than a bleeding black hump on the dark earth.
X gave a sudden cry of pain next to me as a tentacle came down like a guillotine blade. I heard it whip through the air with a high-pitched whine. A single breath later, I watched in horror as it sliced off his right arm. X looked down at the spurting stump for a long moment, his tanned face turning as pale as bones. He stumbled forward, then, with a hoarse cry, he fell.
Following X’s lead, I raised my gun and started shooting the cultists. They sprinted away in a random panic as bodies fell ahead of us. I jumped over the black lumps on the ground, hearing Mowdoroth shake the world as it gave chase. A long, snake-like tentacle reached down, picking up X’s spurting body and raising it towards Mowdoroth’s leech-like mouth. The massive abomination slowed, picking up the bodies of the dead cultists and crushing them. I heard the bones shatter as the wet gore exploded around Mowdoroth’s many sharp teeth.
I saw the woods again, living trees just a few hundred feet away. The trail of black earth ended abruptly, leading out of the boglands. Cultists sprinted blindly through the forest in every direction, scattering like cockroaches. I had nearly reached the border of the forest when I heard something whizzing past my head. I ducked, but the blur of a grayish tentacle coming down sent a jolt of fear like electricity sizzling through my body.
A moment later, a cold agony covered my left hand. In shock, I looked down, realizing that the blade-like appendage of Mowdoroth had neatly amputated all four of my fingers. If I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve probably gotten my head instead.
Stumbling and screaming, my mind in a blind panic, I staggered through the intersection of the boglands and the forest, falling forward. I knew I was dead. I closed my eyes, waiting. Yet nothing happened.
When I looked back, I saw something strange. Mowdoroth had stopped at the end of the boglands. It tried to push its body forward towards me, but it couldn’t enter the forest. It was as if an invisible barrier stood there.
I lay there for a long time. After a while, I heard Mowdoroth slink back into the fetid waters of the boglands. And then I was alone.
***
I wrapped my hand in bandages as much as I could, trying to stem the bleeding. I felt weak and sick from blood loss, so I lay there until the sun came up. The next day, I was able to slowly make my way out of the forest and back towards the nearest town.
Now I hear stories of people mysteriously going missing in the area. An entire family in a nearby farmhouse only a couple dozen miles away disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace, leaving only smeared trails of blood leading into the forest. No one saw anything, but these six victims were only the first in a long line of strange deaths. Oddly enough, all of the victims lived next to swamps.
And I have the feeling that I was the one responsible.